Domesticity
by Isabeau of Greenlea
Summary: The habits of a life time are hard to overcome. In Act III, Fenris and Fallon Hawke reach a crossroads in their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Because it's ever so much fun to have multiple WIPs going at once, here's a DA2 piece. I've had four Hawkes to date romance Fenris-a male mage, a female mage, a male rogue and Fallon, my female fighter. I was a little surprised to find that Fallon was the one who spoke to me.

There's an awful lot of Fenris fic out there. I hope my small contribution will please.

* * *

><p>Fenris tied the red scarf back around his wrist and smiled back at Fallon Hawke, who was sprawled in glorious, disheveled abandon on the bed, the sheets rucked down around her waist.<p>

"Shall I meet you here tomorrow?" he asked. "We can walk to the Hanged Man together. When are we supposed to meet Varric and Isabela?"

"Do you honestly need to ask after all this time?" Fallon asked with a grin. "Not until after lunch, of course. Come over here a little early and I'll feed you. I don't fancy risking the Hanged Man's mystery meat if I don't have to."

"Very well. I will see you then." He turned and started out the door, hearing her voice soft behind him.

"Be safe going home, Fenris. Good night."

"Good night."

He started to close the door behind him, only to hear Drake's imperious bark. Fallon called from within, "Do you mind, Fenris?" He opened the bedroom door a little.

"Not at all. Stay in bed and stay warm. It's cold tonight."

The mabari squeezed out to join him, its stubby tail wagging in gratitude and paced at his side down the stairs. When they reached the front door, Fenris opened it for the dog, then closed it once more and went back to the fire to get warm before he went back to the abandoned mansion. Drake would bark to be let in when he was done.

Fenris was not looking forward to going home; if home it could be called. The mansion was chill and dank at the best of times. He'd laid in a supply of firewood for the winter, but he suspected it wasn't going to be enough. Kirkwall did not often see snow, and what it did see did not tend to stick, but winters were miserable enough. The frigid damp coming off the sea killed many a destitute soul in Darktown every winter. A small, weather-tight space that could be heated was worth a squatter's life and many of them had cost just that much. Fenris tended to live in the one upstairs room in the mansion during the winter, the windows covered with the thick curtains, the fireplace kept going as best he could, firewood piled along one wall so he didn't have to go out and let the heat out. It never really got what one would call warm, the fire would have to have been fed and tended constantly for that to happen, but it kept the deathly cold away.

The warmth of Hawke's house was alluring, and the warmth was only one of many reasons he was tempted to stay. But he could not bring himself to do so. It was only recently that he had been able to bring himself to come to Fallon's bed again, after that first wonderful experience three years ago. She had never pressed him to return, though he knew that she had wanted him to. Instead she had simply waited patiently, foregoing a relationship with anyone else, never saying anything to him that might imply that she was angry or annoyed.

He'd heard plenty from the others though. "Andraste's sagging tits, you are such an ass, Fenris!" Isabela had exclaimed one night over cards with him and Varric. "Go _back _to her! Hawke loves you, but you can't expect her to wait forever while you get over your hang-ups! I know for a fact that Anders would be with her in a flash if she so much as crooked a finger, and he's not the only one! Maker knows _I'd_ love to get my hands on her tiller! That's a _waste_ of a perfectly awesome woman! If you're not going to go there, then at least _tell _her so and clear the field for the rest of us!"

"Rivaini's got the right of it, Broody," Varric had concurred. "Hawke's awfully lonely there in that big house since her mother died, what with Bethany in the Circle. Not that she ever complains, but if you know her, you can see it in her eyes. Sure, she's got the house staff and her dog, but that's not like having someone with her she can actually talk to. Not to mention the other things."

"You know, my life would be much simpler if you'd just move in with Hawke," Aveline had groused at him in the Hightown Market on another day as they watched at some distance while Hawke set her business partner Hubert back on his heels. "I wouldn't have to fiddle with my patrols to hide the fact that you're squatting in the mansion and she'd be a damn sight happier. How about you get your nose out of your navel and think about somebody _else's_ problems for a change?"

Standing before the fireplace, holding his hands close to the flames, Fenris wished that it was as simple as that. He honestly didn't understand why he could not bring himself to move in with Fallon, but he suspected that it had something to do with a desire to hold onto his new-found independence as long as he could. That and the fact that these days when he was with her, he felt like one of those Tevinter artifacts the crackpot academics dug for sometimes in Darktown; something of unknown and dangerous potential being bared particle by particle with careful little picks and soft brushes. What would happen when the artifact was fully revealed? Would it be locked away in a display case somewhere or discarded as something of little worth? He didn't think he could bear either result.

Drake's bark sounded from outside and Fenris went to let the mabari in. The dog's dark eyes regarded him with an oddly quizzical look for a moment, and then it gave his hand a small lick in thanks, turned and paced back into the house, towards the stairs. Fenris slung his cloak over his shoulders and let himself out.

* * *

><p>Fallon heard the door close and lock downstairs and sighed. <em>Not tonight, then. Damn.<em> She got up, went to the washstand and cleaned up at bit, then to the wardrobe to get a warm nightshirt and pair of stockings. She regarded the resulting reflection in her mirror with wry amusement. _Breaking news, Lowtown! The Dog-Lord Bitch wears granny gowns to bed. And stockings! And here you thought it was spikes and chain-mail lingerie! _

The plain fact of the matter was that she was pushing thirty, she'd had a bunch of bones broken and magically healed, and in the winter she felt the cold now. More she suspected than did Fenris, which was odd, given that she was a southern girl and he a northern boy. Other than a cloak, he didn't wear any more clothes as a concession to winter, not even anything other than those little socklets on his partially bare feet. But the lyrium tattoos extended even there. Fallon thought that they must keep him warm. Certainly his skin always felt warm, warmer than usual, as if he were perpetually running a fever.

_Will the lyrium sustain him beyond his natural span? Or will it burn him up untimely young? No way to know, I guess. He says that he is the only person he knows of who has had this done and lived, though the magisters apparently do all sorts of magical experiments on slaves. It's one of the reasons Danarius wanted him back so desperately. He was not only a status symbol and a prize, he was a prototype._

After such extreme objectification, Fallon was not surprised that Fenris had trouble relating to people as a person. He tended to snap from one extreme to another, clinging to her almost desperately in their most intimate moments, then pushing her away immediately afterwards, fleeing back to his chilly sanctum. Being with him was like trying to coax a shy wild animal to feed from your hand; a direct look at the wrong time, a too-loud breath, the tiniest move and it would flee back into the forest, never to be seen again.

Sometimes she honestly wondered why she bothered. But she'd lost that battle with herself a couple of years ago, after he'd slept with her once, and then fled. She'd tried to be sensible then, to set aside a man who was obviously too damaged to sustain a relationship. She'd tried to be open to other possibilities-not Anders, more of the same, although in a different way-but others. People in her new social circle, ironically enough the sorts of people her mother would have approved of. But it didn't work. They were vapid, selfish, self-absorbed, unworthy of notice. The only other person she'd ever thought worthy of her time in Kirkwall outside of her immediate circle of friends had been the Arishok-and she'd had to kill him. When Fenris gave her one of his rare, shy, unguarded smiles and it had sustained her for a week, Fallon had realized that she was lost. For better or for worse, he was the man she loved, and she would simply have to resign herself to living on what little he could bring himself to give.

_Which makes nights like tonight damned cold, _she reflected, moving to the hearth to use the tongs to place a hot brick in one of the quilted wraps made especially for that purpose. It even had the Hawke family crest on it, which seemed stupid and pretentious to her, but the housekeeper had insisted that such was only proper. She slid the brick down to where her feet were going to be, pulled the blanket up from the foot of the bed and crawled under the covers.

Drake materialized at the side of the bed, looking at her with a hopeful whine.

"You may as well," she told him resignedly and he woofed happily and leapt up onto the bed. Considerate animal that he was, after a bit of circling he curled himself up in just such a manner that his back was pressed against hers, providing maximum warmth. But then, he'd had a lot of practice…

_Looks like it's shaping up to be a one mabari night. That's right, Kirkwall, you're absolutely correct. Fereldans __**do**__ sleep with their dogs on a regular basis, _Fallon thought a bit waspishly as she drifted off to sleep. _Only it's not for the reasons you're thinking of and nowhere near as exciting and perverse as you might imagine!_

* * *

><p>"You're a <em>monster<em>!" Fallon snarled at the blood mage Huon late the next evening. Dropping his wife Nyssa's body to the ground before him, the mage began to glow ominously with the power he'd stolen from her life's blood.

Many would have quailed from the sight, ran from the shades and minor demons that were erupting from the packed earth of the Alienage. But Fallon Hawke kept her eye on the prize, sprinting towards the mage himself, knowing that the sooner he was taken down, the fewer summoned creatures they'd have to deal with. Fenris, knowing the same, was right at her side.

Huon however, was cunning; he disappeared in a puff of black smoke just as they reached him. Spinning around, the two warriors caught sight of him on the opposite side of the courtyard and started running in that direction. But the ploy had given Huon time enough to get off some sort of blood magic spell. Fenris had never encountered anything like it before. Fallon stopped in mid-step, was lifted off the ground, surrounded by a scintillating red aura. A scream burst from her mouth and Fenris shuddered to hear it even as he kept running. He'd never heard Fallon make a sound like that-she'd been known to scream with rage in battle, but that was nothing like this agonized sound. Unnerving as it was, he knew that her best hope was for him to take the mage down. His Tevinter blade swung swiftly, even as Bianca stuttered her multiple bolt attack, Drake launched himself at Huon's throat with a mabari roar and Isabela appeared behind the blood mage's back to drive her daggers into his kidneys.

The mage went down under the combined ferocity of their attacks, then the four turned their attentions to the shades and rage demons Huon had summoned up. When all was quiet once more, they rushed to where Hawke lay limp in the dust. There was blood leaking from beneath her eyelids and out her nostrils and mouth and it dewed her upper lip in tiny dots.

Fenris pulled out a healing potion, lifted Fallon's head and poured it through her lips. To his relief her throat moved as she swallowed the potion, but she did not open her eyes.

"Try another, Broody," Varric suggested and Fenris did so. Once again she swallowed but did not regain consciousness.

"Maker!" Isabela swore, stripping Hawke's gauntlet. The tiny droplets of blood were on the top of her hand as well. She shoved the gambeson up Hawke's arm and there were red smears on the skin. "I think she's leaking!"

There was the sound of a door opening.

"We need Blondie," Varric declared. "Let's go get him, Rivaini."

"No," said a soft voice with a Dalish accent, "You need me." Merrill was pacing towards them, her large green eyes luminous in the light of the lamps surrounding the _vhenendahl_. Fenris bristled. Merrill had not run with them since Fallon had refused her the _arulin'holm. "_Anders cannot help you. Only blood magic can mend what blood magic has marred. The mage called the blood out of her body. She hasn't much time."

"What are you waiting for, then?" Isabela snarled.

"Until you can guarantee me that Fenris won't gut me for doing it," Merrill said simply.

Fenris found himself the subject of two fulminating, brown-eyed stares. He glanced over at the blood mage and then back down at Hawke, so still and silent, her blood seeping into the dust. Everything in him howled against the idea of using blood magic to save Hawke, but it howled equally loudly at the thought of losing her.

"You are safe, so long as you do nothing other than heal her," he said gruffly.

"Not very friendly, but I suppose it will do," Merrill said. She walked over to Fallon, pulled the small dagger from her belt and slashed her palm open, scattering the blood over Hawke's body, then clenching her fist. There was a reddish shimmer and a muted whoosh of air. Sheathing her dagger, Merrill said, "She will be all right now, though she may need to rest a day or two."

"Thank you, Daisy," Varric said sincerely.

Merrill nodded. "I did it for you, Varric. Because of how you looked after me when I was first here." She gestured in Fenris' direction. "I certainly didn't do it for _him_. Or Hawke." She strolled back off into her house without another word.

Fallon moaned a little and opened her eyes. "What in the Maker's name _was_ that?" she whispered.

"Blood magic," Fenris replied. "Some new spell the mage had come up with."

"Inventive little bastard, wasn't he?"

"Merrill fixed things, Hawke," Varric said, relief obvious on his face.

"She did? I should thank her then. That _hurt_."

Recollecting Merrill's last statement, Varric said, "Later. You look done in. Can you walk? Let's get you to the Hanged Man. You can sleep in my room if you like." Hawke shook her head.

"No offense, but I just want to go home, Varric."

The dwarf gave her a dubious look. Fallon saw it and chuckled.

"I think I can make it. But if you see a wheelbarrow along the way, feel free to tip me into it."

* * *

><p>They did not find a wheelbarrow, but it was not needed. Fallon managed to walk slowly up through Lowtown and into Hightown and for a wonder, for once the night-time streets there were quiet.<p>

"Why don't you all come in and have a drink, get warm before you go back," she said to her friends at the door.

"You still have that good brandy?" Isabela asked, her eyes lighting up.

"You mean the horrendously expensive blackberry stuff? Yes, half a bottle."

"Then I'm in," the former pirate said.

"And your favorite dwarven whisky for you, Varric. There's plenty of that left, since you're the only person who can stomach it. I've got some good wine for you, Fenris."

"I will not be drinking. I will be helping you," the elf said firmly.

"As you like."

They entered the house. Bodahn scurried out, exclaiming over Fallon until she told him not to fuss, then went to see that the fire was stoked up in the library and her friends' drinks were served. Drake went and curled up before the fire, licking the remnants of Huon's blood from his face and body. Fenris helped Fallon up the stairs, her arm draped over his shoulders. Settling her in a chair before the fire in her room, he began undoing buckles with fevered haste, setting the armor aside on the floor to be racked later. Removing the gambeson and padded trousers he found the insides of the garments to be blotched with blood. Hawke's shirt was even worse, with great saturated patches.

"You're going to need a bath," Fenris noted. Fallon groaned.

"Maybe just a wash-up tonight? Bath tomorrow? I don't think I can wait for the tub to be filled. I just want to go to bed. And I could use another health potion. I feel bruised all over."

Fenris gave her another of the ones he carried. That seemed to relax her, she'd obviously still been in pain. Orana, who had been awakened by Bodahn, scurried in, then scurried back out to fetch the hot water and bath supplies Fenris requested. He had Fallon stripped completely by the time the former slave returned. He was disturbed to see that Hawke was shivering a bit, despite being close to the fire.

"Get me my oldest flannel gown if you would, Orana. And some old stockings," Fallon directed. When the girl had done so, she was dismissed. "Go downstairs please, and see if my friends would like something to eat. Perhaps some of Mistress Berrybay's bread, if it's done. And thanks for getting up."

"It is no trouble, Mistress, I am happy to do it," the girl said, dropping a curtsey before she departed. Fallon sighed when she had gone.

"I do wish she'd stop acting like I'm going to beat her."

"It may take some time. Maker knows it has for me."

Hawke's eyebrow flew up in surprise. "You've never acted like you expected me to beat you, Fenris."

He shrugged, dipped a washcloth into the washbasin, rubbed soap on it and began washing her. "That is not what I meant. If you've known nothing but slavery your whole life, then it is hard to leave that way of thinking behind. I've had many more years than Orana to work on it. She still doesn't believe she is free. She will come to in time."

"Have you come to believe? Really?" Fallon's eyes were intent upon him for a moment, then they closed and she sighed in pleasure as he rubbed the hot, wet cloth over her chest and arms.

He paused in the washing for a moment to consider. "I…for the most part, I think, yes. There are still odd moments, when I first wake up for instance and wonder what my Master will want me to do today. Then I remember that I have no master and it is up to me to make of my day what I will. Which is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time." His mouth twisted in one of his wry smiles. "Because if I fail, I have no one but myself to blame."

"But if you succeed, then no one but you deserves the credit," Fallon murmured with a smile. "It does work both ways."

"I am not so sure about that. I've had help-you, Varric, even Isabela and Aveline. If I make a good life for myself, you all will have had a hand in it."

"It's nice of you to say so." Fallon yawned and he hastened his cleansing of her lower body, legs and feet. The bathing was a very intimate act, but there was no sexual feeling in him this evening. Hawke was obviously unwell and he too shaken about how close he had come to losing her earlier that night. The Maker, he reflected, must surely have some love for Fallon Hawke that she'd fallen to a blood mage's spell while just across the courtyard from another blood mage skilled enough to counter it.

He began patting her dry. She smiled drowsily up at him, enjoying his ministrations. When he'd dried her down to the hips, she went ahead and pulled the gown over her head. He looked at it curiously, a well-worn, almost ratty garment in a grayed white color that nonetheless looked very soft and comfortable. She'd never worn anything like that around him before. Usually they just peeled right out of their clothes and got down to things, or occasionally she would don a silky nightgown first to entice him. He loved the sensation of running his hand over her body sheathed in silk. She also never put thick stockings on when she was with him, though she did that now as soon as he'd dried her legs. Despite the time he spent with her roving about Kirkwall, and the evenings he spent in her bed, there were apparently still things he didn't know about Fallon Hawke.

"Give me a hand up, will you please?" she asked and he complied, helping her out of the chair and over to the bed, then giving her a boost up with a hand beneath her rump. Fallon slid beneath the covers, shivering. "Thanks. Damn. Forgot to tell Orana to warm the bed first."

"Shall I get you a brick?"

"No, it will warm up soon enough." No one who had been on the receiving end of Hawke's ire would have believed the sweetness of the smile she gave Fenris then.

"I will go check on the others," he said; then more softly asked, "Would you like me to come back?"

She nodded, startled. "I would, very much. But only if you want to."

"I will be back in a little while."

* * *

><p>Varric and Isabela had ensconced themselves in the library with the liquor, in chairs near the fire. A small table with some bread, butter and cheese was between them. Fenris helped himself to a large piece and spread butter liberally upon it. It was still warm, the yeasty aroma rising to his nostrils. He devoured it in three bites and took another.<p>

"How's Hawke, Broody?" Varric asked, Bianca cocked up against his chair.

"Very tired. She went straight to bed."

"I'd feel better if one of us stayed with her tonight," Isabela commented, with a pointed look in Fenris' direction.

"I will do that," he said.

She blinked, apparently surprised at the lack of argument.

"You sure, Broody? Because Rivaini or I could do it."

"I will stay."

Varric got to his feet. "Well then, if that's settled, I'm headed back to my own bed. Coming, Rivaini?"

Isabela rose somewhat carefully. Fenris noted that the blackberry brandy was almost gone.

"Come on, oh Paragon of Manliness. Maybe we'll find some Invisible Sisters to beat up on the way home."

Fenris let them out and locked the door behind them. When he started back up the stairs, Drake joined him. They entered the room together, and Hawke cracked an eye open.

"Come to bed, Fenris."

"I need to wash up a bit first myself."

There was enough left of the now-cool water and a couple of clean towels to accomplish that. Fenris stripped his armor and racked it, making a mental note to clean it on the morrow, along with Fallon's, which he also put away. Then he washed himself, dried off and slipped into the bed on the opposite side. Fallon immediately wriggled towards the center of the bed.

"Come here. You're always warm and I'm selfish and cold." He did so. Fallon promptly turned her back to him so that he could spoon in close. She knew that Fenris did not like to sleep with someone at his back.

He put his arms about her flannel-covered form and snuggled close. She made a pleased, inchoate sound and snuggled back against him harder. Just for a moment, the feel of her soft-clothed warmth brought a whisper of memory to the edges of his mind, the sensation of his mother's arms about him and the echo of her voice. Then it was gone.

_Not that Fallon inspires __**motherly**__ feelings in me of any sort,_ Fenris noted to himself wryly. The memories, which occurred with increasing frequency these days, did not upset him as they once had. He supposed that he'd absorbed a bit of Fallon's fatalism, her belief that things would occur in their proper time. She was always willing to talk with him about the memories, to help him puzzle them out and that made them easier to bear.

He buried his nose in Fallon's feathered black hair, catching the faintest scent of blood. She'd need to wash it in the morning. He would help her with that. The exertions of the evening caught up with him then, and he drifted into sleep.

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><p>In the small hours of the morning, he woke with a start, tattoos glowing bluely. The dream had been an old, recurring one. Danarius turning to him for pleasure, in the absence of another slave that pleased him. Being ordered to strip, to submit, on his knees on Danarius' soft mattress. Head down, hips up, legs spread. Waiting for the invasion, the pain, the burning, hateful pleasure that was so different from what he shared with Fallon. Craving it. Until Danarius was done, and sent him away from his soft bed to Fenris' hard pallet in the slave quarters.<p>

_Because slaves didn't sleep in the master's bed._ _Ever._

It was blindingly obvious now that he thought about it. Probably not the only reason he'd not been able to move in, but certainly a contributing factor.

_Slave habits. They linger with me still._

Because a slave didn't deserve warmth, didn't deserve good food. Just the leavings from the master's table and whatever blanket he deigned to throw upon the floor.

Fenris sighed, aware that the dream had not only brought revelation, but arousal, and that his hard length was twitching against Fallon's backside. He moved back a little, preparing to slide to the other end of the bed, when she turned suddenly and looked at him with concern in her sleepy blue eyes.

"Bad dream?"

"You…could say so."

"Got you hard. Danarius?"

There were times when Fenris appreciated Fallon's blunt, straightforward manner and times when he wished she had even the tiniest bit of diplomacy in her. This was one of the latter.

"I…uh, yes. I am sorry. I should go."

"You're not going anywhere." Her arm, which was under him, he realized, suddenly tightened, drawing him close, while her free hand reached for the drawer in the bedside table, opened it and drew out a handkerchief. She handed it to him.

"I'm not in any condition to do you right now, but I can help while you take care of yourself. I'm up to that much."

"You can…help?"

Fallon sighed patiently. "Yes. While you jerk off. I'll nibble on your ear." She smiled, the sleepy look giving way to a more aware, speculative one. "I've never watched you jerk off before. This should be fun."

"_Fun_?"

"Yes. I'm always too involved with my own feelings when we have sex to really watch you. Go ahead."

Long accustomed to taking direction in this particular area, Fenris closed his hand around his member and began to pull gently. Fallon stuck her nose close to his ear and breathed into it. He shivered. Her hand began to move idly over his body, tracing the lines of his tattoos. She was not a mage, so it did not have the impact that it did when Danarius let his power trickle into them, but the skin along the edges of the tattoos was sensitive and it was stimulating in a different way.

They continued in this way for some time, Fallon stroking his body and sucking the tip of his ear and kissing him. It felt very good, but it wasn't enough to allow him to culminate.

"Perhaps we should just stop," Fenris said eventually. "You're tired and I will be able to go back to sleep in a little while."

Fallon obligingly stopped her caresses. "Why don't you tell me about your dream?"

"I…I don't know if I'd feel comfortable doing that."

"Why? I know that it upset you-I woke up to the glow. Perhaps you should talk to someone about it."

"It…It is embarrassing, Fallon."

"Is it because it was about Danarius? Did he do something to you that you like better than what you and I do?" There was no accusation in her tone, Hawke simply asked the question, but Fenris reacted as if she had in fact accused him.

"NO! No, it was nothing like what we have! There is no comparison!" The tattoos flared into life again.

"Is it because you like being with men as well?"

"_No! _I prefer what I do with you!"

She smiled at his vehemence. "That's as may be, but you didn't wake up hard as a rock because you were dreaming of me."

"Fallon, I..." He pushed himself up on an elbow, made as if to get up out of bed, took one look at her face and stopped. Her expression was as gentle and patient as ever, but the dark shadows around her eyes reminded him of the reason he was here. Settling back against the pillows, the blue light fading, he was rewarded with a grateful smile.

"Thank you. I really don't want to be alone tonight," Fallon admitted softly. "It's all right, Fenris. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But you should know-I don't mind, whatever it is. Given the life you've had, it would be astonishing if you _didn't_ have a kink or two. If you like taking it in the ass-"

"_Fallon!_"

"-if you do, then we can get some toys and play around, find something you like. If you'd like to do that to me, then I'm game. I've never suggested tying you up, I was afraid that it would frighten you, given your history. But if you trust me and want me to do it, or vice versa, I'm good with that too."

He shook his head in wonder. "You are the strangest woman, Hawke."

"Compared to Isabela? _Merrill_? You take that back!" She was grinning and he suddenly found himself smiling back.

"Point taken." He considered for a moment. "I don't think I _can_ be tied up. Not for long and not so long as I'm awake."

"Ooooooh. You know, you're probably right. I hadn't thought of that." Fallon looked intrigued. "Might come in handy someday."

The odd conversation had taken care of Fenris' aroused state. He moved closer, laid his head upon her shoulder. Fallon curled her arm up around him.

"It is not that I do not trust you, Fallon," he said softly. "But I don't want to talk about Danarius. We killed him, you and I, and he needs to stay dead. Talking about him, to…get off, as you would put it," he was choosing his words carefully, thinking about them as he went, "using what he did to me in the past…it brings him into our bed. And I do not want that."

Fallon went very still for a moment. _Did he just say __**our**__ bed? _"I can understand that. I'm sorry if I upset you with the suggestion."

"I am not upset. You are an extraordinarily understanding woman, Hawke, and I appreciate that. I don't know of too many people who would put up with me the way that you do."

"I know plenty who would like to try."

His eyes met hers. "To get me into their beds. Because I'm exotic, unique. No better than Danarius, in their own ways."

"I thought we weren't talking about him."

That small, endearingly shy smile appeared. "That's right, we weren't." He turned his head into her neck and kissed it, and she lifted her other hand to lightly stroke his face and the silver hair. By the time weariness claimed her once more, he was already snoring lightly against her skin.


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks to rawr1983, mille libri, and Those who call me T.I.M. for reviewing my first chapter. This really is a stretch for me, so I don't know how quickly I'll finish it, but I will finish it.

* * *

><p>Fallon woke the next morning stiff and sore all over. She soaked for a long time in a hot bath, Orana refreshing the hot water twice. Fenris helped her do a proper wash, including her hair, then made her go back to bed to eat breakfast there. She insisted that he join her and they lounged for quite a while upon piles of pillows, until they'd eaten absolutely everything and were warm and replete.<p>

Fenris looked out the window, where the sunlight shone bright and cold upon the roofs of Hightown. "This feels very strange to me," he noted. "I'm not accustomed to sleeping in quite so late."

"Not even after one of your legendary drinking binges at the Hanged Man?"

"I tend to wake early even then. A little later, but still early." He looked over at her. "How are you feeling? You look a bit better."

Fallon stretched. "The bath helped," she admitted. "A lot." Glancing over at her armor on the rack, her brow furrowed. "Thanks for hanging that," she said with a nod of the head in that direction.

"You are welcome."

"I need to clean it. And then I should go see Meredith. Huon was the last of the three." She did not look enthused at the prospect.

"Surely it can wait until tomorrow."

"It could, but it doesn't have to. I can manage. I'll go after lunch. Do you want to come, or have you got other plans?"

"I am entirely at your disposal."

"Damn. What an offer. Too bad I don't feel quite up to taking complete advantage of it."

"Only when you are feeling well enough, Hawke."

"Tomorrow I should be fine." Fenris nodded. Fallon slid out of bed, went over to the wardrobe, dropped her gown unselfconsciously, pulled out smalls, some shabby breeches and an equally shabby shirt, and began to dress. He noted the stockings stayed on her legs, and also, that she had the faintest shadows of huge bruises all over her.

"Do you want another potion?" he asked. She shrugged. "It's not that bad since the bath. No sense in wasting one." She tossed him another, equally ratty shirt and breeches. "Come clean armor with me."

They rolled the rug up, rang Orana for a bucket of warm water, leather soap, some sponges and towels and set to work. Fenris' armor, despite the spikes, was relatively simple and took much less time to do than Fallon's heavy plate, so when his was done, he shifted over to help her.

"Considerate fellow," was all she said, neither of them talking much throughout the process, other than to ask the other to pass something over. It was cozy, companionable, thoroughly domestic. Fallon enjoyed it, but knew better than to bring Fenris' attention to the fact that he'd actually spent the whole night with her and survived.

* * *

><p>After a light lunch, the two of them armored up, Fallon in one of her clean padded arming suits and took the ferry across to the Gallows.<p>

The Knight-Commander saw them almost immediately.

"I heard that Huon and Evelina were killed. I suppose that it was unavoidable."

"Pretty much," Fallon said shortly. Meredith gave her an intent look.

"Are you well, Champion?"

"I'm just fine."

"Emile de Launcet turned himself back in," the Knight-Commander continued. "Quite happily, I might add. I would have executed him, but his father made an impassioned plea on his behalf."

Fallon's eyes narrowed and darkened, storm warnings that Fenris knew only too well. "The fact that you'd even contemplate executing someone like Emile who voluntarily turned themselves back into the Circle shows just what is wrong with it."

Meredith's expression was smugly self-righteous. "Mages have been known to enter Circles voluntarily to spread the taint of apostasy, Champion."

"Emile de Launcet couldn't spread butter on bread without cutting himself, and you know it! And if he'd had just an ounce more common sense and intelligence, I'd have sent him out of Kirkwall instead of back to you."

The Knight-Commander's brows drew down and her blue eyes went icy. "That's a rather…contentious position to take, Champion. I had hoped that this task would show you just what the Order faces every day."

Fallon's eyebrow flicked upward. Her voice was cold as a stiff winter wind blowing over snow. "Do you think I've never killed blood mages _before, _Meredith? Hardly a week goes by when I'm not dealing with some crazy blood mage! And yes, that includes Quentin, since you love to bring him up every time we meet. Who was able to kill my mother at least in part because both _your_ precious Order _and_ the City Guard disregarded Emeric's warnings-which also cost him _his_ life! I daresay I've put paid to more blood mages these last few years than your entire Order has!"

"And yet with all of this, you still oppose my efforts in Kirkwall."

"Because you oppress your mages so severely here that you only make matters worse. You create your own self-fulfilling prophecy-you imprison and torture mages until they break and resort to blood magic out of desperation. Then you have cause to kill them with a clean conscience. And because you've done your damnedest to block the nobles from appointing a Viscount, so that you can keep running your own sweet little theocracy here-in direct violation of Chantry law. If Her Grace was half the Grand Cleric she's supposed to be, Meredith, she'd have yanked your chain and put you back in your proper place years ago. And if the Divine had been doing _her_ job, Elthina would have been replaced when it became obvious she wasn't up to the challenge of Kirkwall."

The Knight-Commander's face darkened, her expression thunderous. "You _dare_ question the wisdom of the Divine! You _dare_ criticize Her Grace? You, who consort with apostates? I daresay you think _you _should be Viscountess?"

Fallon's lip curled. "Given that this city would be a Qunari colony by now and _you'd _be rotting in the ground if I hadn't dealt with the Arishok, I do think Kirkwall could do worse. But I don't want the job. It's not something that plays to my strengths. I'm not very diplomatic, you see."

Fenris, who had been watching this entire exchange with appalled fascination, had to cover his mouth and cough to suppress a totally inappropriate laugh.

Meredith's mouth tightened. "Perhaps you should work on that little shortcoming," she suggested coolly. "Someone who has a sister in the Circle should try _very hard_ to cultivate some diplomacy when dealing with the Knight-Commander."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop suddenly as Fallon's face went deathly pale. Not with fear, Fenris realized, but with rage. He took a quick look at the door, tried to recollect the placement of the guards if it should happen that they might have to fight their way out of here. Both women seemed to have forgotten his presence completely.

Then Fallon smiled, a gleaming flash of white teeth. "And the Knight-Commander would do well to remember that if the Champion's sister should come to _any harm whatsoever_, then the Champion will make her answer for it," she said in a soft, conversational tone that nonetheless somehow conveyed profound menace. "And the Champion is not some poor little intimidated mage whose mana you can drain. You _really_ don't want me thinking I've got nothing to lose, Meredith. I've dealt with far worse than you." Her gaze locked with Meredith's, held it. "You've got the Gallows and your own little army, it's true. But I've got Hightown. And Lowtown. And the Docks. And Darktown. And I hold _you_ accountable for every hair on Bethany's head. You think that she is the leash you will control me with? She is not. She is your one best protection and you had better remember it."

"You actually think to _threaten_ me?"

"I don't threaten, Meredith. But I do make promises. And I _always_ keep them."

The Templar's eyes dropped after a moment. "Your sister is perfectly well," Meredith said in a more neutral tone. "She is a good example to the younger mages, in fact. She is very helpful in aiding them to acclimate to the Circle. Surprisingly so, really, given that she was raised as an apostate." She managed to slide back behind her desk without turning her back on Fallon, and without obviously seeming to retreat. It was quite the feat. "The Order is grateful for the service you have rendered us. I suspect that it was more difficult than you have said, Champion-you do look unwell." She rang a bell and her Tranquil assistant appeared. "Eva, will you please summon Bethany Hawke to the garden court, so that she might visit with her sister?"

"Yes, Knight-Commander."

"Thank you again, Champion."

Fallon inclined her head with a certain degree of irony. "You are very welcome, Knight-Commander."

* * *

><p>"Fallon! Fenris! It's good to see you both!" Bethany rushed to her sister and embraced her, despite the rather spiky armor. "There's nothing wrong, is there?"<p>

"Oh, no," Fallon assured her. "Meredith just asked me to do a job for her, and I was giving her a final report. So I figured I'd visit you as well."

"I'd heard that Emile came back to the circle. Did you find those other mages?"

"In a manner of speaking. They were both…Evelina was an abomination and Huon…he'd apparently acquired a taste for blood magic."

"Oh! Are you all right? You look a little pale." She gripped her sister's hands, peering into her face with concern.

"Huon cast some wretchedly creative thing on me." Bethany gasped and Fallon hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry, Merrill fixed it. I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Oh, how _is_ Merrill? I do so miss her, and Varric and the others!" She pulled Fallon over to a bench and sat down with her. Fenris leaned up against a wall at a little distance and watched as the two sisters caught up on news. He didn't miss the quick flick of Fallon's eyes about the courtyard, noting the Templar guards, and the thinning of her lips. But though Fallon was obviously unhappy about her sister's captivity, Bethany did not seem to be taking it poorly. The guilt she'd carried her entire life about the choices her family had had to make to keep her free was gone now, and if she was being mistreated, Fenris couldn't see any sign of it.

It was no hardship to lean against the wall and study his lover as she spoke with her sister. Fallon seemed brighter, more animated, more the brash young fighter he'd first met that night in the Alienage. This led to the uncomfortable conclusion that Varric and the others were right, that her mother's death and sister's incarceration had hit Fallon hard.

_With all that I owe Hawke, is it right to keep denying her?_

The two Hawkes spoke for half an hour before Bethany said that she had a class of younger mages to teach. Fallon embraced her and kissed her cheek.

"You take care of yourself."

"_I_ am not the one traipsing through the city and outside, fighting dragons and slavers and such! _You _take care of _yourself!_" Bethany turned in Fenris' direction suddenly. "Or perhaps I will make Fenris promise to look after you. You'd do that, Fenris, wouldn't you?" she asked with one of her winning smiles.

"I already do. And I always will, so long as there is breath in my body."

Bethany looked pleased. Fallon, to his surprise, looked startled.

* * *

><p>They departed soon afterwards. Fallon was quiet on the ferry ride back. The confrontation with Meredith had drained her and Fenris could tell from her weary look that a nap was probably in the offing upon their return. But instead of setting off for Hightown, she touched his arm. "I need to talk to you about something."<p>

"Shall we go back to your house? Or perhaps to the Hanged Man?"

Fallon looked out at the water of the bay, sparkling in the sun. It was a beautiful and surprisingly warm winter afternoon. She shook her head. "Here will do." He followed her to one of the quays that did not hold a ship and was reasonably quiet. They seated themselves on the steps leading down to the water.

"You should know," she said softly, after a moment's silence, "that when this thing blows up, and it is inevitable that it will given Meredith's behavior, that I am going to side with the mages, Fenris. You should also know that I've done some work for the mage underground that I've not told you about. I apologize for that. You are not a child, you are your own man. I kept it from you because I knew that you would be angry and because I wanted you with me so very badly. But that's not fair to you. We owe each other honesty."

Fenris stared at her for a moment, stunned. "How can _you_ of all people side with the mages? A blood mage killed your mother!"

"Not all mages are murderers, Fenris, any more than all templars are." Fallon reached into her purse and pulled out a silver coin and rubbed it between her fingers for a moment. "But I know that's hard for you to see. In the end, we're only the sum of our experiences." She indicated one side of the coin with a finger. "Anders was imprisoned and tortured by templars, therefore all templars are bad in Anders' book." She rubbed the other side of the coin. "You knew nothing but torture and slavery at the hands of mages, so all mages are evil to you." Her finger stroked the edge of the coin. "As for me, I wouldn't even _be _here if a _templar_ hadn't let my _mage_ father go so that he could marry Mother. I was raised in the household of an apostate mage who never summoned demons in my presence, and who managed to live quite peaceably in a town full of normal people. My father died of an illness in his bed, like any mortal man. So I'm perhaps a little more open-minded about things."

"Open-minded!"

"Yes. And being open-minded is _hard_. It's easy to say all of something is bad. It's a lot harder to make the effort to judge on a case-by-case basis, which is why most people don't bother."

"Are you including me in 'most people'?"

Fallon gave him a thoughtful look. "I don't know, to be honest. You have nothing positive to say about magic, but you manage to work with both Anders and Merrill, who are more than a bit borderline as far as mages are concerned."

"I have wondered why you continue to suffer them."

"Because they are my friends and if either of them does succumb, then I intend to be the one to take them down."

"If you can."

"Yes. If I can."

"Why are you telling me all of this now?"

"I suppose it's because I had a close call the other day. And because Meredith was such a bitch today. Fenris…Bethany can't leave the Gallows, she's basically there at the templars' pleasure. She can't marry and if she has a child it will be taken from her at birth. She can't refuse any order they give her, lest they decide to kill her or Tranquil her. They can rape her twice a day if they feel like it. They can lock her in a cell without any light or air or company. They have _absolute control_ over her life. How is that different from the way slaves are treated? Those increasing numbers of Tranquil mages, peddling magical potions in the Gallows courtyard for the enrichment of Meredith and her cronies-how is that different from some slave being forced to work in a mine somewhere?"

"A slave can't do the damage a mage can. The Circle is for their own protection as much as anything else."

"Orana's father and grandfather were slaves. She didn't know any other sort of life. It could be argued that keeping her as a slave would have been for her own protection as well, but didn't _you_ get angry when you thought I was going to do just that?"

"That is different!"

"No, it's not, Fenris." Fallon drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. "You know I'm not a deep thinker. But over time, I've decided that magic is the Maker's test for us. He gave some of us miraculous powers like unto His own and He's waiting to see how we handle it. And I think that when the day comes that mages don't abuse their power and use it to help others instead, and regular humans don't fear and envy them, don't try to kill and oppress them, then maybe He'll decide we're grown up enough and He will talk to us again."

"I suspect Sebastian would think that rather…blasphemous of you."

"As if I cared what Sebastian thought about anything!" Fallon scoffed. She turned her head to look at him. "It's _balance_, don't you see, Fenris? If I were in Tevinter, I'd be fighting the magisters. Here, it's the mages being oppressed, so I'll help them."

"I…I don't know if I can follow you in this, Fallon."

She released her knees and uncoiled in a long, sinuous stretch of muscle, regarding him coolly.

"What happened to that business of 'so long as there is breath in my body' just a little while ago?"

Fenris flushed, embarrassed. He was well aware that he'd given his word and broken it a couple of times in the course of their relationship, but it had always been to other people, usually people he hated and to obtain information. And he'd always justified it to himself by thinking that a former slave had no honor anyway and if someone was foolish enough to think otherwise, then that was their fault. To make such a vow about someone he cared about and then break it…he felt trapped by his word suddenly, snared.

Fallon seemed to discern this somehow. She made an abrupt, choppy gesture. "It's all right, Fenris. I don't mean to hold you to something you don't wish to be held to. You're your own man and you need to go your own road. I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner. It was wrong of me."

"No, it wasn't wrong. I understand why you did it." Her earlier words echoed in his head. _"…because I wanted you with me so very badly." _"But I need some time to think about this, Hawke. Will you be all right?"

"_Me_?" Her left eyebrow, the one bisected with the scar, winged upward at his sudden return to formality. The left corner of her mouth followed suit. It was a decidedly mocking smile, though he sensed the mockery was not directed at him. "I will be fine, Fenris. I always am. I'm the Dog-Lord Bitch, after all. The Terror of Lowtown. The Champion of Kirkwall. Kill my brother. Kill my mother. Lock my sister up. I'll just keep ticking on." Her expression softened a little. "It's true that you're the only man I've ever loved and that I would miss you terribly. But I'll survive even if you decide to leave forever, never you fear about that." She looked back out over the water and spoke more quietly. "Because that's what I do. Survive. I'm really, really strong. So strong even I've never reached the bottom of it." She sighed. "It sucks sometimes."

"I need a day or two to think. Would you like me to walk you back to Hightown?"

"No, I'm fine. You go on ahead." He left her there, looking back once to see her watching the sparkles on the water.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to Onba, Mike, millelibri, Rawr1983 and Those Who Call Me T.I.M. for the lovely reviews last chapter. This one went in an odd direction in the latter part. But hey, even Fenris can't angst _all_ the time!

* * *

><p>Fenris left Hawke feeling very unsettled. His favorite remedy for such feelings was usually wine and since the hour was early yet, he had no desire to return to the dank, gloomy mansion. So he made his way to the Hanged Man.<p>

"Your usual, Master Fenris?" Norah inquired, meaning the cache of wine Varric had laid in for him since he couldn't abide the house liquor.

"Yes, please."

"Master Varric is upstairs in his quarters. I'm sure he'd be glad to see you. He'd mentioned going out to look for you in a little while."

_Probably to inquire about how Hawke is doing,_ Fenris realized, but at the same time he also realized that he'd probably subconsciously been seeking Varric as much as a drink. The dwarf was much better with people than Fenris himself was, with a clear idea of their motivations. When Fenris had a question about one of his companions or the people they were doing work for, he went to Varric as often as Fallon.

"Thank you, Norah. Shall I wait for the wine?"

"Oh no, ser. I'll be glad to bring it up."

He nodded and climbed the stairs up to Varric's quarters. The door stood open, as usual, but he rapped on the wall to announce himself.

"Broody! Come on in!" Varric exclaimed with a pleased smile. He was sitting at his table, a glass at his hand, playing a game of solitaire. "I was about to head on up to Hawke's place. Is she with you?"

"No. I left her at the Docks."

"You want anything to eat? Norah taking care of you?"

"No and yes. I came for a drink and to talk to you."

Varric's eyebrow rose. "Well here, sit down. Want to play a game of diamondback with me? No stakes, just practice."

Fenris nodded agreement. He'd found that having cards to concentrate on tended to make it easier for him to talk about difficult things. Varric was well aware of this as well.

Norah came in as he seated himself with a tray with a clean glass and the wine properly opened. "My tab, Norah," Varric said before Fenris could pay. Norah nodded and departed.

Fenris poured himself a glass and took a moment to sniff the bouquet of the wine before sipping it appreciatively.

"What was Hawke doing down at the Docks?" Varric asked, shuffling the cards with expert ease. "I take it she's feeling better?"

"Better than yesterday, certainly. Not fully recovered yet, but she insisted on going to see Meredith after lunch, to report on the three mages. That was…interesting."

The dwarf's eyes got a familiar glint of eager inquiry as he dealt their hands. "Really? Cough it up, Broody-what happened?"

Fenris recounted the interview as best he could remember as they played their first few hands. When he was done, Varric whistled, shaking his head. "Hawke was on a tear, wasn't she?"

"It might have been at least in part because she wasn't feeling well," Fenris said, examining his cards, discarding one and asking for another. "Hawke can be at her most aggressive when she's actually feeling weak or vulnerable. You know that, you've seen her do it too. I actually thought we were going to have to fight our way out of there for a moment. Fight our way out of there after fighting our way to Bethany."

"But Meredith backed down?"

"She did. She even made sure that Bethany came out to visit. And they had a nice visit, from what I could see. Then, when we were back at the Docks, Hawke said she needed to talk to me, so we sat down by the water. And she told me that the business with Meredith was going to come to blows eventually and that when it did, she would be fighting for the mages. Then we talked about why she was going to do that for a while and she ended by telling me that if I couldn't support that she understood, that it was my choice and she'd be all right if I decided I had to leave forever. It was all very strange, Varric."

"What's so strange about it, Broody? Hawke's sister is in the Circle. Of course she'd back the mages. She couldn't do otherwise."

"But why tell me this now?"

"You stayed the entire night with her last night for the first time."

"Yes."

"How did that go?"

Fenris laid his cards face down on the table and took another drink of his wine. Keeping the glass in his hand, swirling it absently, he said, "It was…nice. It was warm and waking up with Hawke was…pleasant. We were abed late and then we got up and cleaned our armor together before we went to see Meredith." A puzzled look came over his face. "Did I do something wrong, Varric? Offend her in some way? It almost seemed as if she were trying to drive me away. You know that I am not good with people."

"Broody, if Hawke had _wanted_ you to leave her, do you think she would have had any problem telling you so?"

One of those short, almost forced-sounding laughs escaped the elf. "No. You're certainly right about that!"

"How do you feel when you think about living with Hawke? Has the idea ever crossed your mind?"

Fenris handed his cards back to Varric. "I can't concentrate right now," he admitted, then frowned for a moment as he considered, taking his wine glass up once more. "It has crossed my mind. The benefits to me are obvious, but I have to wonder-would it be good for Hawke? Surely it would do her reputation little good to be openly living with an elf, particularly one who is an ex-slave. I have nothing to offer her and I don't like the idea that all the giving would be on her part."

"Sounds like a free man's pride you've got developing there, elf. It's good to see." Varric gathered all of the cards up, absently shuffled them once more, then set them aside, twining his fingers together. "But you do realize that Hawke doesn't care about any of that. Surely it's come up before?"

Fenris thought back to the very first night they had slept together. _"You don't mind that I'm an elf?"_

"_I'm a human and a refugee. Do you mind that?"_

"It has."

"And you do know that _you_ played a big part in Hawke being able to get that mansion, become the Champion and the rest of it, don't you? You were at her side the whole time, including down in the Deep Roads. I'll wager she thinks living with her is only your due, not some imposition. And aside from that, the girl loves you madly. It's plain to see whenever she looks at you."

Fenris sipped his wine, his brow furrowed. "Then what was all that business this afternoon about?"

"If you're asking me, I'd have to say Hawke does want you with her. All of the time, and for the rest of her life. But she wants you with her with your eyes open, as a free man. So she's telling you what she intends to do so that you can make the choice about whether you can live with that or not."

"I…see. But it seems as if it would be better for her to take one of these human nobles here."

The dwarf sighed. "Still don't get it, do you, Broody? Since Hawke became Champion, have you seen any of those nobles try to court her? I'm not talking about speaking to her and dancing with her at parties, or trying to get her to solve some problem of theirs. I'm talking open pursuit, courtship."

The furrows in the elf's brow deepened. "No…I can't say that I have. And I have been around enough to think that I would notice."

"There's a reason for that and it's not her winning personality or your perpetual broody presence at her back." Fenris snorted and Varric grinned. "She's a lovely, fascinating woman, Hawke is-though admittedly a bit high maintenance for my taste. But her father was a _mage_ and her sister is too. There's not a noble in Kirkwall who would touch her. They don't want that nasty mage blood coming into their family lines. So trust me, Broody, you're _not_ keeping Hawke from some better alliance with a human."

Fenris pondered this for a brief time while Varric waited patiently. "It is odd," he said at last. "Things here are totally backwards from the way they are in Tevinter. There, Hawke might be considered as a possible mate for a magister family because of her father and sister, but only secondarily so to a true mage. If she were to marry and then did not produce mage-born children, she would be divorced, probably without portion unless her husband was kind. There, she would not be mage enough and here she is too much."

"She'd probably be better off in Ferelden, in all honesty," Varric declared, resting his chin upon his interlaced fingers. "The way King Alistair is doing things these days, she could raise her children openly as apostates if they turned out to be mages. The possibility exists for a great family life-at least until the Divine smacks an Exalted March on Ferelden." He cocked a quizzical eyebrow at the elf. "You never thought about children, did you, Broody?"

Startled, Fenris shook his head. "No. Why should I?"

"The question does eventually come up in most permanent relationships." Varric sighed and took his mug of ale up, drinking deeply. "Hawke's not getting any younger. If she wants children, every year she delays now makes it more dangerous and unlikely for her. And there's something else you need to think about. You've both got mage blood in your families. There's a pretty good chance that the two of you together might produce a mage child."

The elf blinked, rather mechanically drank some wine, then blinked again. "A mage child." He felt as if someone had bludgeoned him between the eyes with one of his own mauls. Not so much at the idea of a mage child, but at the idea of _any_ sort of child resulting from what he and Hawke did together. Fenris tried to imagine what Fallon would look like pregnant, gravid with _his _baby. The image was a hazy, incomplete one-Fallon with a soft, maternal glow on was difficult to visualize-but that image, vague and imperfect as it was, roused a startlingly strong protective urge in him.

"Uh huh." Varric was grinning, obviously enjoying his discomfort and Fenris frowned at him.

"We've never discussed children. Probably because we don't really have a permanent relationship."

"You don't?" Varric asked mildly. "Than what do you have? Are you just fuck-buddies? Do you think of yourself as Hawke's bodyguard? Her boy-toy?" Fenris' frown became an outright scowl. "You wouldn't care if Hawke were to take up tomorrow with one of those nobles you think she deserves? You'd be just fine if something happened and Hawke were to get _killed_ on one of these crazy stunts she does?"

The mere thought of a world with no Fallon in it caused an empty ache of despair in Fenris that surprised him with its intensity. The dwarf, watching him, nodded.

"That's what I thought. Looks like you've got a deal of thinking to do, Broody, and lots of questions to ask. Questions for yourself and questions for her."

"I…perhaps you are right. Thank you, Varric, for the wine. And the counsel."

"Any time, elf. Any time." Fenris got up from his chair, watching as the dwarf's stubby fingers, so incredibly dexterous despite their thickness, began shuffling and dealing out another game of solitaire.

"_Do_ let me know if you come up with any answers." Varric's voice followed him out the door.

* * *

><p>The afternoon was wearing on, but it was nowhere near dark yet, even at this time of year. There was still time to get back to the mansion. Even a warrior of Fenris' caliber was ill-advised to travel the streets of Kirkwall alone at night. There might have been more cutpurses and footpads abroad in warmer weather, but the winter ones were more desperate for the money to buy the fuel and food needed to survive and harder to discourage. It was usually necessary to kill them outright.<p>

Fenris turned right upon leaving the marketplace, deliberately turning his back upon Hawke's mansion and headed towards the Chantry. In the courtyard he paused to look at the Chanter's Board out of long habit, but found nothing of profit there. Turning to go home, he thought twice and ventured up the Chantry stairs instead. Fallon might not care for much that Sebastian Vael had to say, but Fenris enjoyed his philosophical conversations with the man. And even if Sebastian was not present, the Chantry was still welcoming and quiet, a peaceful place conducive to thoughtful contemplation. Misanthropic though he was, Fenris still preferred the silent, non-intrusive presence of others was to the echoing emptiness of the mansion.

The huge door moved soundlessly upon well-greased hinges as he slipped inside. Though the large stone building was not very warm, the glow of red candles in every corner could almost convince one that it was so. There was no service in progress, so it was a simple enough matter to take his usual seat in one of the pews upstairs, after carefully removing his great sword and setting it beside him. He did not see Sebastian anywhere, but one of the sisters he often saw gave him a friendly nod and a casual blessing. Fenris thanked her and settled back in the pew to contemplate what Fallon had said earlier that afternoon.

"_You are not a child; you are your own man. I kept it from you because I knew that you would be angry and because I wanted you with me so very badly. But that's not fair to you. We owe each other honesty…_ _You're your own man and you need to go your own road."_

So many times she had asserted that, till even he believed it now. _"Fenris is not a slave!" "Fenris is a free man!" _She'd helped him buy his freedom with her own blade, helped him learn to read, opening the wider world that educated _free_ people inhabited. About Fallon's motives towards himself, Fenris had no question whatsoever.

_It is her judgment in this matter of the mages I apparently question. So let us look at that._

It was not that Fallon had no use for _any_ Templars, as was the case with that abomination Anders. She'd spoken often of her respect for Knight-Captain Cullen, who seemed a reasonable and humane individual. She'd worked with Ser Thrask, helping him return mages to the Circle. It was people like Ser Alrik and Ser Karras she had no use for. And feared, feared what Templars like that would do to Bethany. Perhaps already even had…Fenris could not say that Fallon's fear was unfounded. The way those particular Templars looked upon mages, as if they were not people but mere _things,_ offended _him_. He knew what it was like to be considered a _thing, _a _possession, _to have no right to freedom or even any say in what was done to your own body. Tranquility done to an unwilling mage-how was that any different than the magical experiments Danarius had inflicted upon his unwilling slaves?

As for the other side of the coin, Fallon had certainly dealt with her share of blood mages over the years. Making case by case judgments, doing things the hard way as she had called it. The recent business for Meredith, for example. Huon and Evelina, blood mage and abomination, had been taken down without regard to the cost to herself. But Emile de Launcet…she'd judged him harmless and set him free. Fenris suspected that that decision was at least in part defiance towards Meredith, who held her sister so close. And after the way that interview had gone, Fenris had to question the Knight-Commander's judgment himself. If she had truly had the mages' best interests at heart, Meredith would never have uttered a threat, no matter how veiled, towards Bethany, who was innocent of any wrongdoing, just to keep her obstreperous and politically influential older sister in line. That smacked too much of self-interest to please Fenris.

"_It's __**balance**__, don't you see, Fenris? If I were in Tevinter, I'd be fighting the magisters. Here, it's the mages being oppressed, so I'll help them."_

He and Varric, Merrill and Anders, Isabela and Sebastian had all deferred to Fallon's leadership the last several years. Even Aveline, a power in her own right, served at Hawke's beck and call when she was needed. They'd all trusted Fallon to make the hard judgment calls and had not been disappointed. Well Merrill had been, but Fenris highly approved of what Fallon had done there. Why stop trusting her now?

Somewhat more settled in his mind, he was going to take up his sword again when a quiet voice addressed him.

"Serah Fenris, isn't it?" He looked up and saw Grand Cleric Elthina standing outside the pew. Hastily getting to his feet, he bowed. "Your Grace."

"Please, sit down. Were you looking for Brother Sebastian? I am sorry, but he is out this evening."

"No, Your Grace. Or rather I had hoped to see him, but I am not disappointed. I came in to do some thinking."

"May I?" she gestured towards the pew beside him and he moved the great sword to his other side.

"Please."

"May I ask what the subject of these ruminations was?"

"It was a personal matter, Your Grace. But I also had some questions I've been wanting to talk to Sebastian about."

"And what were those? Providing that I would serve as an appropriate substitute."

Fenris' mouth twitched into a somewhat painful smile. "I don't know if that's wise, Grand Cleric. Brother Sebastian thinks I'm a heathen at times. I'm sure you would think worse. He says he finds our conversations stimulating. I'm afraid you might find them offensive."

Elthina's faded grey eyes twinkled. "I am more resilient than you might think, Serah Fenris. It's a poor faith that cannot stand up to a little examination."

Fenris inclined his head. "Very well then. I've been reading a book for a while now. _A Slave's Life._ It's about Shartan."

"A most worthy individual. Did you find the book inspiring?"

"I did, but not perhaps in the way you imagine. It raised some questions for me. If I understand correctly, Shartan made alliance with Andraste to help her in her war against the Tevinter Imperium that had enslaved so many of his people. He did this in return for the promise of a homeland for the Elves. Is that correct?"

"It is."

"He did not promise that his people would become worshippers. It was a military alliance. Is that also correct?"

"As I understand it, yes."

"So Andraste's forces were victorious and the Elves were given the Dales. Where they re-established their ancient civilization and religion as best they could. Because after all, that was the bargain. They had never promised to join the Chantry. And then, hundreds of years later, the Chantry decided to do an Exalted March on the Dales, to crush the Elves again because they were not Andrasteans. Which they had never promised to be in the first place. Is that also correct?"

"It is said that the Dales were the first aggressors."

"But there are also accounts that say that was said to preserve the Chantry's reputation in what was basically a land grab. Whichever way things fell out, the elves got the short end of the bargain. Their civilization was destroyed again and they were all enslaved, since they were godless heathens and didn't deserve better."

"That's a bit harsh, Serah Fenris."

"It's the truth, Your Grace. Now what my question is about is this-why would any Elf wish to be an Andrastean by choice?"

"We number many Elves among our faithful."

"So I understand. What I don't understand is _why_, at least in the lands ruled by the White Divine."

"You don't understand why an Elf would wish to give worship to the Maker?"

"The same Maker whose greatest followers have consistently treated Elves with contempt and betrayal? No, I'm sorry but I don't. Even the Elves who are faithful are treated as second-class citizens. I am a fairly well-traveled person, Your Grace. In all the lands I've passed through, I've never seen an Elven sister or mother or Revered Mother. Except in Tevinter, where there are elven Revered Fathers as well. Only in Tevinter can an Elf aspire to the fullest expression of his or her faith in the Maker. Only in Tevinter, under the Black Divine, can an Elf have another Elf intercede with the Maker in a priestly capacity."

Fenris cast a side-long glance at Elthina, who was looking rather confounded. "I did tell you that I thought this conversation was best left to Brother Sebastian, Your Grace."

She shook herself and laughed quietly. "Yes, you did indeed warn me, Serah Fenris. There is no logical reason for an Elf to become an Andrastean outside of Tevinter-except in the face of threats to his or her survival. Is that what you are telling me you have brought away from your studies?"

"That is it exactly. I understand that you believe that the Maker will return when the Chant is heard throughout Thedas and that the non-humans, the Elves, particularly the Dalish and the Dwarves are the biggest obstacle to this. But you give them little reason to want to change their ways and join you. They may keep their own beliefs, which reinforce their sense of worth as thinking beings or join yours as unworthy petitioners, on sufferance at best. And since that's not a particularly attractive option, you then have to force them to join you upon pain of death." He gave her a crooked smile.

"Would it not be the better, more humane option to allow Dwarven and Elven clerics? To give these races priests who can best understand them? To show them you accept them as equals? Would that not be better than Exalted Marches? How true can a forced faith be?"

"You seem to think that there can be no faith without some tangible benefit to the worshipper, Serah Fenris."

"For most people I believe that is indeed true, Your Grace. The people who can have faith in the absence of material or spiritual reward of some sort are rare. And they're usually called masochists."

The Grand Cleric smiled, laughed a little and shook her head ruefully. "You raise some interesting points, Serah Fenris. As I was never the best debater in my youth, I fear that I have no answers for you now. But I will think and pray upon what you have said. And definitely do some reading before our next conversation! Perhaps I can even find some books you would enjoy. Now-as to that personal matter of yours. Perhaps I could be of help there? The pastoral rather than the intellectual has always been my strong suit."

Fenris hesitated a moment before asking, "Do you think that a man and woman who love each other should always be married?"

Elthina lifted an eyebrow. "Yes, it is preferable that they be united in the Maker's sight, certainly. But love of any sort is the Maker's blessing to the world and never wasted. Would it be Serah Hawke we speak of? Because that would be a wedding I would be happy to officiate at."

Fenris ducked his head, smiling. "Serah Hawke and an avowed heathen? I would not impose upon Your Grace's good nature to that extent," He got to his feet and bowed to the cleric. "A good evening to you, Grand Cleric."

"And to you, Serah Fenris." Elthina watched, bemused, as the lanky elf slouched out of the cathedral.


	4. Chapter 4

Many thanks to Madame MCM (told you I'd update!), Happy Little Cupcake, tsusami, mille libri, Rawr1983, NoMadKa, and Enchanter T.I.M. for your reviews last chapter. They make me feel much more comfortable about writing Fenris!

* * *

><p>After a rather restless night tossing and turning in his less-than-comfortable bed in the mansion, Fenris woke early and got breakfast at a stand at one of the inns in Hightown that did business with merchants and travelers. Fallon was not a morning person most of the time and he wanted her to be in a good frame of mind for their discussion. So he waited until three hours after dawn before going to the Hawke mansion, only to have Bodahn shake his head and tell him that Fallon was not there.<p>

"Got up early she did, Master Fenris. That Hubert fellow in the marketplace came to the house early with some bad news about the mine, and she went with some of the others to go take a look this morning. Very bad, it sounded-a cart full of dead men came back into the town from the place, all bloodied and burned."

"_Venhedis! _That place is _cursed_!" How many times did they have to clean dragonlings, ghouls, giant spiders and Maker knew what else out of the hell-hole called the Bone Pit? It seemed much more trouble than the meager profits were worth. But Fenris knew why Fallon persisted in the ill-fated venture. Due to her active partnership, the Bone Pit was one of the few places in Kirkwall that would hire Fereldans at a decent wage.

Bodahn nodded his head in sad agreement. "It certainly does seem so, messire. Is there some message you'd like me to give Mistress Hawke when she returns?"

Fenris gave up on any chance of a private conversation any time soon. When the Bone Pit was involved, the more help the merrier. "No, thank you, Bodahn. I'll just go to the mine myself. Do you know who was going with her?"

"Brother Sebastian, for one. He had dinner here last night and the mistress said she knew he was an early riser. She was going to stop at the Chantry and pick him up on her way. And I believe she said something about Master Varric and Master Anders."

That explained Sebastian's absence from the Chantry the night before. Fallon didn't care much for Sebastian's piety and indecision, but he was a useful companion for some of the things they got up to, and she certainly wouldn't have begrudged him dinner. Besides, Leandra had liked him, so she would have gladly entertained the priestly prince on her late mother's behalf. And Fenris knew for a fact that Fallon enjoyed listening to Sebastian and Anders sniping at each other, which probably explained the inclusion of both of them in the party. For the same reason, he found himself running with Anders more often than he would have preferred. He supposed that it was a tactical weakness, that some of Fallon's decisions about whom to take on what task were made at least in part with an eye as to which combination of her motley group of friends would be the most entertaining to her.

Drake came out into the foyer and looked at Fenris in open appeal, tail wagging. The mabari had obviously heard his stated intention and he certainly wasn't going to object to such a formidable escort on the road to the Bone Pit.

"By all means, my friend," he told the dog. "We will go find your mistress together. I'm sure you could do with a long walk."

Drake barked an enthusiastic affirmative, and fell in beside him as Bodahn showed him out the door.

* * *

><p>The day was another mild one for winter, with plenty of pale sun and still air. The walk was bandit-free and actually pleasant for once. Fenris, who found physical activity a good substitute for drink where quelling his inner dialogue was concerned, found himself relaxing and enjoying the day. Drake stayed at his side, except for the occasional quick foray into bushes or a niche at the side of the road that held a promising smell. Fenris watched him, bemused. He was the only one of Fallon's companions that the mabari had bestowed such favor upon. Drake would escort anyone did Hawke command it, but only with Fenris did he volunteer himself.<p>

_Does this say something about his approval of our relationship?_ Fenris pondered wryly. _Or is it simply that we wolves should stick together?_

His good mood lasted until he reached the foot of the mountain that held the mine and caught the faintest hint of burned flesh floating upon the still air. Drake lifted his head and whined.

"Let us hurry, my friend."

The mine was a scene of carnage, all the equipment and hoists outside still smoldering. There were a number of bodies strewn about on the ground. Fenris' gorge rose into his throat but a quick inspection showed that they were miners rather than Fallon and her friends.

Drake barked suddenly, sharply and dashed off to their right, seeming to disappear between two rocks. When Fenris hastened after him, he found that some of the huge boulders blocking the ancient path down to the Bone Pit itself had been dislodged and the way was open. He ran down the way after Drake.

"Fallon!"

He was answered with a deafening roar. Head swiveling, he caught sight of a huge draconic form perched upon the top of some of the ruins overlooking the Pit.

_A __**high dragon**__? Here?_ He shrugged mentally, even as he hurried faster. _Of course! It lacked only that! And perhaps an Archdemon or two!_

At the foot of the path, he had a good view of most of the Bone Pit and could see Fallon and the others far out in the middle, surrounded by the dead forms of what he assumed were the dragon's young. Drake was running flat-out and had already covered half the distance, puffs of white bone dust rising beneath his scampering feet. To Fenris' great relief, everyone still looked to be in one piece.

The whole scene was surreal. Looking down upon it did not have the same effect as being at ground level and seeing all the piles and drifts of bones, knowing that most of the small pebbles and bits grinding beneath your feet were yet more bones, that the whole of the dead white plain was probably compacted bone grit and dust. The surface was hard and unyielding and the feel of it beneath his bare feet sent an atavistic shiver up Fenris' spine. The sun shone distant and pitiless down upon the scene and all was oddly silent, save for the crackle of Anders' magic and the thrum of bowstring and Bianca.

The dragon roared again and launched itself, landing heavily near the four friends. Fenris could tell that it was sorely wounded-the constant barrage of bolt, arrow and spell had taken a toll. He hurried faster, for he knew what would happen.

Drake closed with his mistress, who turned her head and laughed when she saw him. Fenris heard the laugh through some trick of the still air, heard her call gaily, "Come on, boy!" and saw Fallon Hawke run forward to dance with a high dragon while her companions kept up their missile assault, Drake leaping happily at her side.

Pure Fallon it was, that heads-on charge against overwhelming foes. Watching, knowing that he would probably not get there before matters were settled one way or another, Fenris heard Varric's words of the day before echo through his head as he ran.

"_You'd be just fine if something happened and Hawke were to get __**killed**__ on one of these crazy stunts she does?"_

Confronted with her in the act of doing one of those stunts right now, Fenris knew with sudden certainty that he wouldn't be. His life in the last few years, what life he could remember, had been shaped by two driving forces-his hatred for Danarius and his love for Fallon Hawke. The first was gone and if he lost the second…he did not care to contemplate what his life would be after her death. Empty, futile, flat…everything in shades of gray, he suspected. Nothing to do but to drink away his pain and sell his sword until someone better than him ended his misery.

He pelted past the three men, heard Sebastian's exclamation "In the Maker's name-_Fenris_?" just as Fallon reached the dragon. Her left hand left Bassrath-Kata's hilt for a moment to flick a gesture at Drake, who jumped left and upwards to sink his teeth into the dragon's wing-tip. The dragon roared in pain, its head arcing up and to the left to snap at the mabari and as it did, Fallon leapt as well, under and _up_, the Qunari blade's twin prongs slicing open the dragon's throat. Hot dragon blood fountained down as she passed under to the right and turned. The dragon's head slammed onto the hard surface of the plain and she leapt up once more, sword arcing over her head to thrust the blade down into its skull. The dragon's body gave one huge, convulsive shiver, then grew still.

"_Sweet_, Hawke!" Fenris heard Varric call behind him, knowing that the dwarf's vivid imagination was already embellishing what was an extraordinary feat. Fallon Hawke had just made dragon-slaying look easy

He pulled up, panting, in front of the dragon's head. Fallon looked at him quizzically. She was absolutely drenched in dragon's blood, her short hair spiked and matted with it. Her chest was heaving, but she was catching her breath even as he watched; finally, fully recovered from the blood magic

"Fenris. What are you doing here?"

His emotions were tumbled and conflicted and consequently when he spoke it came out almost accusingly. "You! You went after a _high dragon_ without me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Uh, first of all, Fenris, I didn't _know_ that it was a high dragon. I thought that the problem might be one or two mature dragons like the one we met that one time. As it turned out it was a high dragon _and_ a couple of those, as well as a bunch of babies. By the time we figured that out, it was too late to go back for help. Besides, for flying dragons you need shooters, not slicers. I probably wouldn't have brought you _had _I known. Lots of shooters and one slicer to keep things off of them seems to be the optimal mix." Fallon pulled a handkerchief out of her belt pouch and began wiping her face of the blood. "Secondly, you said you wanted a day or two to think about things." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "So of course I didn't bother you with this." Finishing the wiping, she lowered the handkerchief and looked at him. "Did I get it all?"

He glared at her in exasperation. "There's still a smudge across your nose."

She lifted her hand, then sighed and changed her mind. "Not worth the bother. I'll get it when I get home." She ruffled Drake's ears. "Thanks for bringing him, though. He came in handy."

The mabari grinned, sat and began scratching himself.

"It's more that he brought me," Fenris admitted, beginning to let his irritation go. Fallon was just so damned _reasonable_! With him at least, if not the rest of Kirkwall…

"He's clever that way." She looked over at the others, who were approaching.

"Solivitus told me once he could do neat things with a fire gland. Anders, why don't you get that and some dragon blood while we loot this girl."

* * *

><p>The dragon's horde contained a very nice bow, though Sebastian sniffed and said his was better. "Maybe Marethari's folk would do some trading for this," Fallon speculated. There were also some coins, some potions and a cuirass that looked very familiar.<p>

"Looks like the last piece of that spiky armor you've been collecting, Hawke," Varric noted, running appraising fingers over it. "High-grade silverite here. Nice stuff." Fallon tried it against her chest approvingly.

"Yes, it is nice! Needs re-strapping though. How odd, the way that this stuff has been scattered across Kirkwall. It's sort of been like a scavenger hunt. And odder still that it fits me so well."

"It's obviously fate. Destiny. In your stars. Meant to be," the dwarf said with a grin.

Fallon snorted. "No, it just means that a long time ago, some other idiot girl just my size with good taste in armor was afflicted with an overwhelming desire to help her fellow man, or elf, or dwarf or all of the above and obviously came to a bad end. Let that be a lesson to me."

Anders laughed as he straightened up from the dragon's body, his hands bloody. "Corpse plundered, oh fearless leader. What now?"

Staring at those bloody hands, Hawke sobered. "Now we check out the mine and see if anyone is left alive. I can't believe _everyone_ is dead." Her tone was bleak.

Back up at the mine, Fallon had Varric pull out some parchment and a graphite stick and begin a list of names of the dead she could recognize. "They're not all here," she said, a guardedly hopeful look on her face.

"Maybe the rest were in the wagon," Varric speculated.

"Perhaps. Hubert wasn't clear on how many bodies were in the wagon. But we'd best look inside."

They discovered more bodies inside the main entrance, making note of them as well. But everyone was still not accounted for. For yet another time, they ventured forth to comb the mine's passages. It was absolutely quiet for once, and their search was unimpeded. It was also unsuccessful-until they came to one of the stone doors that closed a played out mine passage. Fallon pulled the lever, the slab slid up with a groan-and she was confronted with some grimy, frightened, _live_ miners. Her pit boss, Jansen, moved to the front of the group.

"Am I glad to see you, boss! Some of those idiots tried to get away in a wagon when that thing came over. Did they make it?"

"No. Well, the wagon made it to town, but they were all dead." Jansen grimaced. "It got there this morning, and Hubert sent me out. How long have you all been pent up in there?" Judging from the smell, it had been some hours at least.

"What time is it now?"

"Early afternoon."

"Then it's been since late yesterday afternoon. Blasted dragon showed up just as we were about to go off shift. We've been arguing over what to do. No way to tell what was going on down here, and no way to tell if it was gone. We were hoping you'd show up." He looked her blood-spattered appearance over. "Is it dead?"

Fallon nodded.

"Damn, boss! Is there _anything_ you can't kill?"

"I had some help, you know." Her voice turned brisk. "Are any of you hurt? Come out and see Anders. We'll escort you all back to Kirkwall. The mine is closed for now, while Hubert and I decide what is best to do, but I'll see that you're paid in any event."

"And the dead, boss?"

"Get yourself some rest and food, Jansen. I've already started a list. Tomorrow, come to my house and we'll make sure I've not forgotten everyone. We'll get the bodies down to the Chantry-I'll pay for the funerals. Pay will be issued to the families of the dead as well, so that they will be able to eat while I figure out what to do."

He nodded approval. "Thanks, boss. You're a good one."

"If I was that good, this wouldn't have happened," Fallon growled. The rest of the miners, ten of them besides Jansen, filed out into the larger chamber. Anders began looking them over as Fallon watched, her expression grim. When he'd treated the few minor injuries there were and they'd passed their water skins around for the very thirsty men, Hawke gathered them up and started back down the road to Kirkwall.

* * *

><p>"I am ruined, partner, ruined!" Hubert wailed when Fallon gave him the news. "Unfortunately, all of my money was sunk in that blasted mine! I have nothing to pay you!"<p>

"Give me the mine, Hubert," Fallon said. The Orlesian's eyes narrowed and he started to protest, but she cut him off, her expression chill. "No one is going to want to work the Bone Pit again, Hubert, not even Fereldans. It's finished. The only thing left is the cleaning up. I'll do you a favor and take care of that. The families of those miners would lynch you. They might be more forgiving of a fellow Fereldan."

It was difficult to argue with that logic. Hubert decided to cut his loses.

"I want all the records, payroll, inventory and taxes at my house by nightfall. I've got a lot to do," Fallon said briskly and he nodded in acquiescence. They left the marketplace and as soon as they were out of earshot, Fallon said, "Drinks and dinner at my place. Are you in, Sebastian?"

The Chantry prince shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, Hawke, but I have evening devotions tonight." He smiled. "It's been an entertaining day. I'll have quite the tale for Elthina. She always enjoys hearing about our adventures."

"Really? You tell Elthina about what we get up to? You're wicked, Sebastian."

"I do a bit of judicious editing," Vael admitted, with a glance at Anders. "Good afternoon to you, Hawke. It's always interesting, I'll give you that! Varric. Fenris. Anders. And most especially you, Master Drake."

Drake barked an acknowledgment, tail wagging in approval. Sebastian bowed to them all, and walked off towards the Chantry.

* * *

><p>As had become custom since Hawke acquired the mansion, her friends availed themselves of the excellent plumbing and the spare clothes that were kept there for them while dinner was being prepared. Additionally, Anders had laundry to collect. Before seeking her own bath, Fallon instructed Bodahn to send word to Isabela that she was invited to dinner and that it was a matter of some urgency. The Rivaini arrived just as they were all congregating in the library with drinks. Fallon poured her a brandy and gestured to a chair.<p>

"Dinner's nearly ready. Glad you could make it, 'Bela."

"Hey, who am I to turn down a free meal? You planning something, Fallon?"

"In a manner of speaking." Fallon's ice-blue eyes were distant. "How would you like to be a _real_ captain again?"

"Are you _serious_? Do you have that kind of money?"

"Yes, 'Bela, I do, thanks to years of interest on some good investments Varric clued me in on. I can get you a ship, but you'll be working for me at first. I have something I want you to do."

Isabela accepted her brandy and swirled it in the glass as she took her seat. "Hawke, I am totally at your disposal." The corner of her mouth crooked up and her eyes gleamed wickedly. "For _whatever_ you have in mind."

Fenris was not entirely sure _what_ Hawke had in mind and he was listening to the plans, though he thought it had something to do with death benefits for the families of the slain miners. Financial matters were always a bit of a mystery to him, having never had access to any money of his own for most of his adult life. They'd moved the discussion into the dining room and he sat and ate silently, listening while Fallon and Varric discussed things like "liquidation" and "compensation" and "delving into the principal." Isabela thought she was being overly generous, but Anders seemed to approve highly. In fact, Fenris thought he saw the blue glow at the back of the mage's golden eyes a couple of times. That seemed to indicate Justice was on board as well.

"I need to get back to the clinic," Anders said, getting to his feet. He'd packed away a huge dinner. "Do you want me to stop by Lirene's and talk to her?"

"No, thank you, Anders. You've done enough for today. I'll go myself tomorrow. And I'll send you word when I've got the carcass sorted." Fallon reached into her belt pouch for some coin. "Here's an advance on your share. Don't spend it all on medical supplies and parchment! Buy yourself a meal or two, if you won't come up here to eat. Those new robes are quite the thing, but you're getting too thin."

A shadow seemed to cross the mage's face for a moment. Then he brightened and smiled. "Yes, _Mommy_ Fallon! And you make sure you get a good night's sleep after all that exertion."

"I am_ fine_!" Fallon growled. "Stop being a fuss-budget!" Then she softened and smiled a little. "Good night, Anders."

"Good night, Lady Dragon-slayer!" He left and Varric gave Fallon a serious look from his chair by the fire in the library, where they'd all retreated back to after dinner.

"By my estimation, this is going to draw your reserves down by over half, Hawke. And in the current climate, they may not build back up again very quickly. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Is there enough to keep the house open? And take care of my people?"

"Of course."

"Then let's do it, Varric. It's what's right. You know I never cared much about money. The house was for Mother, not me. It's paid for and she's gone. I inherited or won every bit of armor and weapon I've ever possessed, I didn't buy them. And aside from books and the occasional bottle of good whiskey, I don't have a lot of hobbies or vices. I'm quite boring, really, when all is said and done."

"Riiiiggght," the dwarf drawled dryly. "I have to exert my fiction-building muscles to the utmost to make stories about you exciting."

"You certainly do exert them on a regular basis," came the equally dry response. "What a chore." Fallon turned her attention to Isabela. "Start shopping, 'Bela. Let me know when you find something."

"You got it, boss-lady. I'm off." She gave Fenris a meaningful look. "Do try to get up to something kinky and celebratory in my absence. It's not every day you kill a high dragon."

He snorted and Fallon grinned. "I'll see what I can do."

"Come on, Paragon of Manliness. Let's leave the love-birds alone." The pirate and the dwarf paused at the door to let Bodahn give them their cloaks, then left.

* * *

><p>"'Love-birds?'" Fenris inquired when they'd gone, an inky eyebrow vanishing up under the shock of moonlight hair.<p>

Fallon looked at him. "You've not said a word all evening. Are you all right? Still mad at me about the dragon thing?"

"No, not that." He shrugged reluctantly, never liking to admit ignorance about anything. "I will confess...I don't entirely understand what you were discussing with Varric. Death benefits for the miners? And what about this ship for Isabela?"

"You got the gist of it just fine. I'm giving the families of the murdered miners a considerable sum of money and the families of the surviving miners a somewhat lesser one, as severance. And 'Bela's getting a ship because I'm offering passage back to Ferelden for any or all of them who want to go. I suspect it will take several trips, and it's not that much more expensive to buy 'Bela a ship and pay her crew than it is to buy passage for all of them. And I trust 'Bela not to take them to Tevinter and sell them. "

"The first thing seems very...appropriate. I do appreciate the fact that you take responsibility for the people in your hire. But why the ship? That seems a bit beyond what might be expected."

Fallon sighed. "The Bone Pit was the one place they could get jobs at a decent wage, Fenris, thanks to me strong-arming Hubert. And now it's gone. Kirkwall doesn't need more Fereldans flooding the labor market, driving wages down to the totally shitty level. And Ferelden needs bodies. These folks were never getting back home otherwise. Only one or two of the miners with smaller families have been able to save up the price of passage in the whole time I've lived here. They're trapped and I'm setting them free."

"Is this about that thing you discussed with me earlier? This conflict with Meredith that you think is coming soon?"

"Yes. I want them out of the line of fire when it happens. And I'm also very tired of watching this city shit on my countrymen." She moved to the sideboard, set her glass down and sorted through the bottles. Pulling up the decanter of Starkhaven's finest whiskey and pouring herself a finger, she tossed it back with the ease of long practice, letting go a slow breath of appreciation as it burned its way down to her belly. "Are you going or staying?" came the carefully casual question, but Fenris could see a certain tension in the way she held herself that told him the question was anything but casual.

It also reminded him that there was unfinished business between them.

"Fallon, you asked me to think about what you said about the mages and templars the other day on the docks. I have been doing so."

"Have you had time to come to a decision?" she asked in that same careful tone.

"I have some questions I'd like to ask you first."

Her eyebrow flicked upward, but she nodded, pouring herself another drink. "Fair enough. Ask away."

"The most pressing question I have for you is-what exactly do you want from me?"

"As in level of commitment?"

"Yes, I believe that is what I am asking. I talked to Varric about this yesterday, and he said that there were questions we should be discussing. Such as if either of us wanted to be married, or to have children."

"That must have been quite the talk! Though Varric is a good choice for those sorts of discussions." Fallon downed her second drink with the same celerity she'd exhibited with the first, but then she made a point of setting her glass down and pushing the decanter to the back of the bottles. Her brow furrowed beneath the feathery fringe of bangs.

"Let's see. I want to be absolutely clear here-I don't want any more misunderstandings between us. Fenris, I want from you whatever you are willing to give, for however long you are willing to give it. I don't mind saying I love you more than I've ever loved anyone and will gladly take whatever you can give. But that means _you _have to decide what it is _you_ want."

"When you went after that dragon today, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it…I realized then that I did not want to live a life without you in it, Fallon. If something happened to you, I don't think my life would be a long one."

Fenris' words were matter-of-fact, his voice even and earnest. Fallon closed her eyes and let them soak in, reflecting for a moment upon just how far her lover had come in these last few years, to be able to confess his love in such a way. It was easy sometimes to concentrate upon the things he'd not been able to let go, rather than the things he'd been able to move past.

"What about the templar-mage conflict?" she asked, opening them once more.

"I understand that there is no way that you could side with the templars, given that Bethany is a mage and because of your own experiences and upbringing. And I even understand what you said about balance." Fenris began to pace a little, a sure sign that he was somewhat uneasy about the discussion. "Since I arrived in this city, you have given me direction. I have trusted you to pick tasks to do that would be for the common good and haven't had cause to doubt your judgment. I see no reason to start doing so now."

Fallon frowned, her eyes following him as he paced. "I don't want you siding with me just because you love and trust me, Fenris. I want you siding with me because it's _right_ to do so."

"I understand that the magisters were the tyrants in Tevinter and the templars are the tyrants here…but I am not as open-minded as you are, Fallon. You've said it yourself. I don't know that I could ever bring myself to like and trust mages. You may have to settle for me siding with you because I trust your judgment and love you."

"All right. Fair enough." She gave him a quizzical look. "What was all that about marriage? Is that something you're wanting?"

Fenris turned to face her. "I had never contemplated the question before, to be honest. But Varric said we should discuss it and Grand Cleric Elthina said that the Maker prefers that man and woman be bound in marriage."

"Wait a minute! You discussed us with _Elthina_ as well? You had a busy time of it yesterday."

"I had intended to talk to Sebastian, but he was over here having dinner. So I sat in the Chantry for a while to think and she showed up."

"What did you tell her about us?"

"Not very much at all, really. I just asked if she thought people who loved each other should be married and she said what she did about the Maker. Then she asked if I was talking about you, and said that she would be glad to perform the ceremony."

"Nice to know. And a little surprising, given that you're an elf."

"So I thought as well. Mostly we talked about Chantry history and my belief that given the way the Chantry treated elves in the past and continues to treat them, that no elf in his or her right mind would be Andrastean. We discussed how elves had much more freedom of religion under the Black Divine."

Fallon whooped, her eyes lighting up with glee, cheeks flushed from the whiskey. "You said _that_ to _Elthina_?"

"Yes, I did."

"Wow. I don't know if I should be standing this close to you." Her eyes turned towards the ceiling for a moment, as if looking for lightning bolts. Fenris snorted. "She didn't try to arrest you for heresy on your way out the door?"

"No, she said that some of the points I'd made had merit, and that she was going to do some reading before we talked again."

"I cannot _believe_ you told Elthina all that!" Fallon shook her head in disbelief, grinning. "Maker, but I do _love_ you and will gladly lick your lyrium-laced, chilblained little toes any time you like as a reward!"

"Sounds intriguing. Perhaps later," Fenris said with a straight face.

"So what did _Varric_ say about marriage?"

"I was worried that I would destroy your chances for a better match. He told me that the nobles here would not have you because of your mage blood."

"My mage blood, my age, the fact that I'm a scary, uncontrollable bitch, the fact that I'm a jumped-up dog-lord despite my Amell blood…yeah, he pretty much got that right," Fallon said matter-of-factly. "What else did he say?"

"I was worried that I would be taking advantage of you because of your position and wealth. He said that was not a problem."

"Fenris, I'd not be sitting in this estate if not for you. You've been with me from the start. As far as I'm concerned, we're even."

"That is what Varric said you'd say."

"Good to know I'm so predictable!" Fallon wrinkled her nose. "Hopefully, that's just my emotional state and not my fighting style."

"You don't have to worry about that," Fenris assured her. A little more hesitantly, he asked, "What about children?"

Her answer came swiftly and firmly. "I won't say it hasn't ever crossed my mind, but I _can't_ right now. I have to be able to fight, to get to Beth if she needs me. And if it takes a couple of years for things to come to a head, rather than next week…that puts me well over thirty. I don't know how easy it would be to get pregnant then-not only is my age against me, I've been taking precautions all my adult life, so I could fool around as I pleased. I hear that makes it harder to get pregnant when you've done it as long as I have." Fallon's eyebrow lifted in inquiry. "Are _you_ wanting children? If you are, then you're probably better off with someone else in that department. Not to mention that any child I bear, particularly one gotten with you, may very well be a mage. Are you all right with that?"

"I had never considered the possibility until Varric brought it up," Fenris admitted. "I still find it difficult to imagine you with child." Fallon chuckled.

"As do I!"

"But now that I have given it thought, I do not find the idea…displeasing. Even if it is a mage child. Though if you did not care to, I would be all right with that as well. Certainly, I understand your reluctance to bring a child into being in this city as matters now stand. And I would not want my child taken from me, had I one."

"If we had a mage child, that would happen almost anywhere the Chantry has a presence. We'd have to live our lives on the run as my family did. Could you handle that?"

"It is something I have had considerable experience with. And I suspect it would be much more pleasurable in your company."

"It is something I have had considerable experience with as well. And it would definitely be more pleasurable done with you."

"We do seem to be in accord about a number of things," Fenris noted. Fallon smiled, nodded and stepped forward to take his hand.

"Yes, we do. No children for now. Marriage a possibility in the future. Let's see if you're in accord with me about this as well. I killed a high dragon today, and I'm a little drunk and very horny. I want you to come upstairs with me _right now_, so I can lick your toes and do lots of other naughty stuff. Maybe not as kinky as Isabela likes, but fun nonetheless. Do you think you'd be up for that?"

That devastating, elusive smile was suddenly gracing Fenris' face. "I _know_ I could be up for that."


	5. Chapter 5

Bet you thought this story was dead after more than a year! What can I say-I've got a very gabby Crown Prince to deal with and he hogs a lot of my attention.

Muchly belated thanks to Triops Master, Mike 3207, mille libri and Enchanter T.I.M. for their input on the last chapter. If any of you are still out there, I hope you'll enjoy this one. At least there's smut...

* * *

><p>The instant they'd made it into the bedroom and closed the door, Fallon turned to Fenris and began undoing the fastenings on his armor, interspersing opening each one with soft, sloppy kisses that proved she was as drunk as she had claimed. He stood quiet and obedient beneath her hands. Fenris actually preferred it when Fallon undressed him, as stripping himself brought to mind nights with Danarius or Hadriana, neither of whom had been much for flirtatious foreplay. They had both tended to make him disrobe himself while they watched before getting down to business. And she had come to know this, as she knew most of his other bed-time foibles.<p>

"You can undress me too, you know," she murmured, leaning close to his ear to do so. "I've got a surprise for you."

He didn't like to think of it as waiting for permission, but he'd come to realize that he was conditioned deeply and profoundly by his life as a slave in so many ways that he didn't even realize it himself most of the time. His hands moved deftly to unhook the doublet, then unlace the neck of the shirt beneath. A sliver of crimson silk came into view when the neck was fully open, and he made a little growl of pleased anticipation when he saw it. Fallon, dropping his upper armor to the floor in one piece, chuckled.

"I thought you'd like it."

He hastened to remove the doublet and shirt. A skimpy, simple silk camisole was revealed, cut so as to flow over her curves and shimmer in the firelight. Sleeveless, it was held up only by a couple of narrow ribbons. Unbidden, his hands slid up over the slick silk, warm from the heat of her body, to caress her breasts. She moaned in answer and he could feel her nipples pebble and peak beneath the fabric. His lower armor felt suddenly very constrictive.

Cupping his face in her hands, Fallon murmured, "You're gorgeous, do you know that?" Her lips came down upon his and her body pressed close before he could answer. A bit lost in the sensation of silk and breasts and firm-muscled Fallon pressed all down the front of him, Fenris could not summon the presence of mind to respond. Fortunately, she didn't seem to expect a response. Her hands opened his fly and let the constrained swelling free; then, after a couple of gentle strokes upon him, she knelt quickly to unbuckle his lower armor.

"I think we'd better get you out of this!" she chuckled. All coherent thought left him as she took him into her mouth, even while her hands were busy at the buckles. Some fractured ruminations upon her extraordinary coordination were about all he could manage. He felt himself hardening even further while pleasure shot up and down his spine. His hand groped a bit blindly for her shoulder.

"Stop, please, Fallon. I want to be with you when I…" he murmured. She obligingly let him slip from her mouth and got back to her feet.

"All right then. Your armor's all undone," and she pulled it away from his body to toss it atop the chest piece. "Let's get these pants off of you." That was the work of mere moments, then he stood before her totally bare. She looked up at him, head tilted to one side, obviously appreciative of what she saw; then rose, swaying a bit, to plop down into a chair to pull her boots. Fenris chuckled and moved to help her with them. When they were off, he pulled her to her feet to undo her breeches. Fallon stood quiescent beneath his hands as he stripped her clothing off, finding that the silken garment was tucked down into her breeches and barely covered the tops of her thighs. He slid his hands up the outside of those thighs, up onto her hips, shoving the skimpy gown up and realized that she had nothing else on underneath. His arousal, which had slackened slightly during the undressing, strengthened once more. He slipped a careful hand between her legs and was rewarded with a guttural moan.

For years, Fenris had been phobic of all touch, conditioned by Danarius's and Hadriana's tortures to fear it. His first night with Fallon had been traumatizing not only because of the flood of memory, but because of the realization that touch did not _have_ to hurt, that a warrior's hands so apt to killing could also be gentle. He often thought that it was that very gentleness that had coaxed the door in his mind open. But the door opening then closing once more, along with that world-changing realization had been too much for him, coming as they had all at once. He had fled and avoided her for three years, while she waited, uncomplaining, patient.

_And she is waiting still, _his mind chided him, even as a flood of heat suffused his body once more. His hands stroked over the silk-clad muscles of her back, slid around front between the two of them to tweak her nipples again, touched all the places he loved best-the back of her neck, downy with tiny, invisible hairs; those incredibly hard-muscled forearms that should have looked masculine but didn't; the dimples in the sides of her taut buttocks.

Her hands were roaming as well, over his back and arms and hips, sometimes following the paths of the markings, more often not, making occasional detours to twine through his white-silver locks. She ground herself against him and he gasped beneath her lips. It had been a few days since they'd been together, not counting the abortive attempt before her injury. Although Fenris had lived most of his life with no control over the frequency or type of sexual expression allowed to him, once he and Fallon had finally become lovers upon a regular basis, he discovered that he did in fact enjoy sex and liked to have it fairly often. And he was more than ready to get down to business right now.

But experience had taught him that that was inconsiderate. So he spent a little more time kissing and caressing, until Fallon grabbed his arm and dragged him to the bed, throwing the covers back.

"Sorry, but apparently dragon-slaying makes me incredibly horny," she declared, a smirking smile twisting her kiss-swollen lips. "Is that all right?" She fell back on the bed and spread her legs wantonly. Mesmerized by the alluring sight, Fenris grinned in return and said, "I can't say that I mind." Fallon laughed throatily and he climbed over her, wondering as he did so if there was enough variety in their sexual life to really please her. Navigating through all his personal hang-ups had to be wearing. For instance, she'd only attempted to be on top once. It had thrown him straight back to the many occasions Hadriana had forced his arousal magically and mounted him. She hadn't tried since, and he was trying to get up the courage to ask her to attempt it once more. He knew Fallon to be an experienced lover with a fairly wide repertoire, and while Danarius and Hadriana had certainly taught him a lot about the ways of giving pleasure, most of the advanced techniques were so fraught with emotional baggage that he didn't like to use them.

But the worries went away as he slid up into her and she arched and moaned beneath him. Her arms and legs came up to wrap around him as he began to thrust, embrace not restraint, comforting rather than alarming. He bent his head to kiss her lips once more, closed his eyes and lost himself, not only in the mounting passion of his body, but in the sensation of being loved and desired. Fallon coordinated with him in bed as well as the two of them fought together, her hips snapping up to meet his thrusts in perfect, matching rhythm. And her cry and clenching came just as he was spilling himself within her.

"Ummmmmm, that was _nice_," she all but purred when he finally relaxed, and pulled him down to rest atop her, sword-callused hands stroking up and down his back, though she did not touch his buttocks, knowing that to be another area associated with bad memories. Fenris carefully slid his hands forward into her silky, short-cropped hair, and ran his fingers through it, his face grave.

"You're very serious this evening," Fallon observed. "Didn't you like the gown?"

"The gown was lovely, as are you. I simply do not believe I deserve you."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? I've missed you, these last couple of days."

"And I've missed you as well."

"Let's not do that again, shall we?"

"I would rather not."

They stayed like that for a while, until the delightful, slick friction of the warm silk beneath him began to rouse Fenris once more. Fallon began to kiss him deeply then, taking his lower lip gently between her teeth and stroking it with her tongue, while her hands continued to stroke along his back and ventured down to his thighs. Soon he was hard again, and she simply shifted a bit, parting her legs beneath him to give access. He slipped easily home and her hips rose to meet him once again.

He'd thrust several times when an idea occurred to him. _Perhaps if I do not think about it too much in advance or talk about it at all… _Gathering his courage, he slipped his arms around Fallon and lowered himself close against her, then tightened his arms and rolled, until she was atop him. Her blue eyes widened, startled, and he felt the fear, the memory, take hold of him once more. He began to shrink and slip from within her, and squeezed his eyes shut, his body rigid.

Fallon, still snug against him, simply slid her hands up into his hair, pressed her mouth to his and began kissing him once more, soft and deep, holding perfectly still while she did so. Her voice sounded warmly in his ear between kisses.

"It's me, love. Just me. You are so marvelous, so brave…" The kisses and loving praise continued, softly, steadily and he relaxed a bit. Hadriana had never kissed him, had never given a thought to his possible pleasure. It had not been about that at all.

_Fallon __**never**__ wears blue in the bedroom, _came his startled realization, though she wore it at other times, for it complimented her eyes and complexion. She had apparently noticed that Danarius' chief apprentice favored the color during their brief, final encounter. Hadriana had been dark-haired and blue-eyed like Fallon as well, but there were differences, significant ones besides their very different natures. Hadriana's hair had been browner, her complexion more olive, her eyes much paler, like sun-shadowed ice. They'd held none of Fallon's steel. He opened his eyes and for once, it was Fallon's face, not Hadriana's he saw, her expression one of loving concern.

"Are you back with me now?" she asked, and he nodded a bit shakily. Then the kissing resumed once more and she began to clench upon him, the muscles down there as firm and strong as her others. He sighed and shivered, and tried to relax. A few moments later, he realized with astonishment that he was actually beginning to harden again.

Feeling that, Fallon smiled. "Put your hands on my hips," she murmured to him. He closed them willingly enough upon the rucked-up silk on her flanks. "You're still in control here, even if you're on the bottom. _You_ move _me_."

His brow furrowed. "That had never occurred to me," he admitted.

"We never got this far before," Fallon said simply, and resumed kissing him, first trailing kisses down the knife-edge bridge of his nose before finding his lips once more.

Tentatively, Fenris tightened his grip and moved her up and down once upon him. He was rewarded with a pleased moan. Fallon was always very free and open with her vocal expressions during sex and they never failed to move him. Encouraged, he began to lift and lower her in earnest and found that pleasure was coursing through him once again.

_She is __**not**__ Hadriana! She was __**never**__ like Hadriana! _His fingers clenched more tightly upon her, almost digging into her flesh. Fallon did not wince or falter, but only moaned louder as he began to lift and then slam her back down upon him.

"_Yes_, Fenris! Just like that! Do me harder!"

He obliged, his breath coming in harsh, rasping pants. He felt the pleasure grow, white sparkles behind his eyes. His markings began to gleam, as they did from time to time when engaged in such activities. Fallon was moaning more than kissing now, but it didn't matter, he was past the place where she needed to coddle him. With one last, hard slam, the pleasure exploded throughout his body. Dimly he heard her cry out as well, felt her shudders beneath his hands. She collapsed against him, panting herself, warm and damp with sweat.

A bit overcome by the stresses of the day and exhausted by the pleasure he'd just partaken of, Fenris put his arms about Fallon again and rolled again, with the two of them ending upon their sides, facing each other. Her eyes were already closing, a pleased smile on her face as he reached for the blankets and pulled them up over the two of them. She kissed his nose, then snuggled closer instinctively, till their foreheads were pressed together.

Fenris waited for that irresistible compulsion that usually overcame him at this point in the evening, the one that drove him from Fallon's bed and back to the decrepit mansion. _Slaves do not sleep in the master's bed. Ever. _But it did not come. Whether it was because he'd finally realized the cause of it or for some other reason, it simply wasn't there. _This is __**not**__ the master's bed! This is the bed of the woman I love, and she __**wants**__ me here. _With a sigh, he closed his eyes and sought his rest.

And when he opened them the next morning, and the first thing he saw was Fallon's joyful face, he was glad that he'd stayed.

* * *

><p>The day became busy soon after breakfast. Jansen came over and finalized the list of the dead. Then Fallon had to go over to the Chantry to pay for the funerals. Varric came over right before lunch, with the money he'd withdrawn for Fallon from her accounts. After lunch, a couple of hours was then spent apportioning it out into individual bags, working from the list of employees both dead and living. Mid-afternoon the task was done and Fallon sent Bodahn off with a note for Aveline, who turned up shortly thereafter with Donnic and a detachment of guard. Fenris and Fallon armored up, then they all trooped down to Lowtown, to Lirene's.<p>

There was a large crowd gathered outside, and it was not an entirely friendly crowd. After some consultation with Lirene, it was decided that Fallon should set up within the store itself, behind Lirene's counter and Lirene would stand at the door and relay the names to the people outside as Fallon worked her way down the list. A couple of Aveline's guardsmen stood at the door, and more were dispersed about the crowd to discourage any thieves or pickpockets who might be tempted to prey upon the bereaved. Varric, Aveline and Donnic and a couple more guards stood within the room itself.

Fenris stood silently at her side and watched. Watched the latest proof that Fallon Hawke never backed down from anything, that she took responsibility for her actions. She listened to those who had survived and were worried about a future in Kirkwall with even fewer jobs. Listened to those who had lost a loved one and were angry. Who thought she should have known, somehow, and been at the mine the day before to prevent the tragedy. Who thought she should have been at the mine all day, every day, to protect them.

Fenris watched them heap their sorrows and blame and abuse upon her and watched her bear up gracefully and without complaint beneath it all. Only once did she come close to losing her temper, with a heavyset woman by the name of Mayva who had a reputation in Lowtown for being a total shrew at the best of times. Mayva had lost her husband (Fenris knew enough of the woman to think death was probably an escape for the poor man!), though her son had been among the miners rescued by Fallon, so her family was getting stipends for both a survivor and deceased.

"I suppose you think this makes up for losing my man, do you Hawke?" she huffed when she'd advanced to the table.

Fallon looked up at her. "No, of course I don't," she said quietly. "But it's the only thing I can do."

"'The only thing you can do'?" Mayva sneered. "Dispense us peasants crumbs from your table in Hightown like some Lady Bountiful? Expect that to make it all better?"

Fenris, who knew how much of Hawke's hard-earned fortune was being spent for this, stirred uneasily. Fallon's hand moved to the side to take his and squeezed it. Her eyes took fire suddenly and her lip curled. Most of the people who had ever seen that particular expression were dead soon after, and Mayva seemed to realize this. She took a step back.

"Does this mean you're refusing my 'crumbs', as you call them, out of principle then, Mayva?" she asked in a pleasant voice that nonetheless conveyed extreme danger. Her free hand moved towards the two purses. "Because you certainly have that option."

"_No_, my lady!" Mayva's chubby hand swept in and snatched them up. She turned and waddled hastily out the door as Fallon snorted and muttered, "I didn't think so."

Fortunately, Mayva was one of the last ones and the last one to give Fallon any grief. When the last purse was gone, and the last employee out the door, Fallon stood and stretched.

"Are they still out there, Lirene?" she called.

"They are. I told them you had an announcement to make," the shopkeeper said, sticking her head in the door. "They'll wait. You take a few minutes."

"Thank you. I think I will." She looked over at Varric and the Hendyrs. "Thank you all for your help this afternoon."

"Always a pleasure, Hawke. Even for something like this," Varric said.

"If I've never said how proud I am that you're my friend, Fallon Hawke, I'll say it now," the Guard Captain declared, in an uncharacteristically emotional display for her.

"Thank you, Aveline," Fallon responded with a weary grin. "You too, Donnic." Aveline's husband gave her a brief nod and smile. That horrific evening during his courtship of Avenline when he'd thought Fallon was actually chasing him still lay between them both.

"Thanks to you as well, Fenris, for standing by her for once," Aveline said.

"Aveline…" came Fallon's warning growl, but Fenris merely nodded, for truly, she had a point.

"You are welcome, Aveline."

Hawke sighed and pushed herself to her feet. "Time to get this over with."

* * *

><p>"I've something I want to say to these people before you make your announcement, Hawke," Lirene said when they all came out the door.<p>

"Of course, Lirene. Thank you for letting me use the store for this."

The storekeeper nodded. She was the most influential Fereldan in Kirkwall after Hawke, certainly the most influential in Lowtown, being the clearing house for information and resources. And she looked to be in quite the mood now.

"I've heard some things today and over the years that make me _ashamed_ to be a Fereldan if it means associating with you lot," she began, her voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. "I've heard that Fallon Hawke does not care for her fellow Fereldans, that she's forgotten her roots and gotten above herself."

"Lirene, this is not necessary…"

"You shut up, Fallon, and let me finish!"

Fallon shut up, eyebrows raised.

"I'm hearing now that Fallon should have somehow _known_ the dragon was coming, that she should have been there, that she should have been at the mine every damned day, _just in case _something showed up! As if she had no life of her own! Since when do Fereldans need a damned _nanny_, and how is that _Hawke's_ job?"

The storekeeper strode down into the front of the crowd, her face thunderous and they gave back before her like chastened children.

"I've got a few uncomfortable facts for you people. Fallon Hawke came here just like the rest of you, with but a few coppers to her name. And because she came late, she had a harder time than most of you. She and her sister had to indenture themselves to the Red Iron for a _year_, just to get passage into the city! Most of you didn't have to do that. You act as if she came with purses of gold and sailed right up to the Viscount's Keep to take tea the first day! Which proves your memories are as faulty as your spines are weak!" A few subdued and angry mutters answered that, but everyone was still listening.

"Instead, she worked her year. And then she worked every scummy, dangerous job she could get her hands on to get the money to go on that expedition, the same expedition that nearly killed her. _None _of the rest of you had the sand to do that! She wanted her family _out _of Lowtown and she did what she had to do to make that happen! There was nothing _easy_ about it, but any of you might have done the same. Only you didn't."

The storekeeper glared about her, her hands on her hips. "And as for her forgetting you lot-she's down here patrolling at least once a week, and you know it. You've heard her pass in the night, and been glad of it. She supports Anders' clinic, and the work I do here in the store for you. If it weren't for Hawke, you'd have been working the Bone Pit for _half_ the wage you were making all this time, and it would probably have closed much sooner. And if it _had _lasted until the dragon came, without Hawke do you think _Hubert _would be giving you severance and recompense for your dead?" There were some shamed looks on faces in the crowd now.

"No, Hawke wasn't there when the dragon came. No one regrets that more than Hawke does. But she came the very moment she knew something was wrong. You can't ask more than that. She couldn't save everyone, but she saved whom she could and took vengeance for the rest. This woman _killed a high dragon _for you people yesterday, and that's _not good enough_? You're _still_ griping that she's not been here to wipe your bums and your snotty noses whenever you need it? What a puling lot of whiners! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

Lirene turned and went back to Fallon. "There. They're all yours now."

Hawke blinked, and her mouth turned up in a wry smile. "Thank you, Lirene. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, I think that I did!" the storekeeper snorted.

Fallon stepped into the space Lirene had cleared. "Most of you know my friend Captain Isabela," she said, raising her voice so that it would carry. "She and I have entered into a partnership. I am buying a ship for her, and in return, she will give any of you who want it passage home to Ferelden, free of charge."

A tumult broke out then, everyone exclaiming and trying to shout questions to Hawke. She let it roar for a minute or two, then raised her hand for silence, which fell fairly quickly.

"We do not have the ship yet, so please don't badger Isabela if you should see her You _don't _want to annoy her!" Some laughter from the crowd. "We are hoping to finalize a sale in the next two weeks and hire a crew in the week after that. We'll post handbills when we are ready to hire. Speaking of which, if any of you are able-bodied and have sailing experience and wish to earn a salary to augment the money I've given out today, then you may apply to Isabela when she announces she is ready to hire a crew. She will give preference to Fereldans for this job." Some pleased murmuring broke out at that news. "Lirene will be handling the order in which the ship is filled. You may begin talking with her about it immediately."

Fallon looked around at her fellow countrymen, her face grave. "When I met King Alistair, he made it plain to me that he would welcome any of you who wished to come home. Ferelden has need of strong arms, to rebuild after the Blight. I think we all know that the situation between the Templars and the mages continues to worsen. It is my belief that all of you should go while you can. Kirkwall has had its worth out of us. Let it trundle along _without_ Fereldans to do all the shitty jobs for a change! " There was some scattered cheering at that.

"What about _you_, Champion?" Jansen called out. "Surely _you're_ coming with us? The King would welcome you, I'm sure."

"He said as much," said Fallon with a nod. "And would probably even give me a place at court. But I'm staying here." A roar, this time of protest, rose. It persisted until Fallon raised her hand again. "My sister Bethany is in the Gallows. She's the last family I have left. I stay with her." A sympathetic susurration moved through the crowd. That cocky smile of Fallon's quirked suddenly into being. "Raise a tankard of good Fereldan ale in my name when you all get home and I'll count myself content." The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. "Once again, my condolences to those of you who lost loved ones. I am sorry that I could not have prevented that. Good evening to you all." The crowd parted before her as she strode off towards the Hanged Man, her friends falling in behind her.


End file.
